


The Long and Short of It

by besully (Briar_Elwood), octopussy (deannawincester)



Series: The Long And Short Of It [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/F, Homophobia, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 42,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Elwood/pseuds/besully, https://archiveofourown.org/users/deannawincester/pseuds/octopussy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The short of it? Dean’s kind of a vampire, Benny’s kind of soulless, and Sam and Cas are kind of dating. The long of it? Well, that’s where things get really complicated.</p><p>(Canon compliant up to 10.18. Takes place five years after.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

> There's a prequel / prologue titled A Story From The Past, set two to three years before this fic. It's not necessary reading to understand, but it could help.
> 
> Emmwich's great art for the fic is [here](http://emmmwinch.tumblr.com/post/121780575911/art-for-the-the-2015-deanbenny-bigbang-story-the).

Nothing.

There is absolutely nothing out there.

On one hand, it’s kinda nice. It’s been a few months since anything major happened. After they finally ganked Metatron over a year ago, Heaven went back to normal--at least as normal as Heaven ever gets. Crowley’s finally gone too, and they’ve got this weird sort of “you don’t fuck with us, we don’t fuck with you” deal with the new ruler of Hell. (Some pansy-assed mousey demon, Dean can’t even remember the guy’s name.) And with no one upstairs or down trying to fuck things up on Earth, no one’s trying to mess with Purgatory, so it’s all just quiet. Normal. Easy.

On the other hand, Dean is fucking _bored_. Yeah, they still have hunts and cases and shit, but it’s all easy stuff. A salt and burn here, a werewolf there. And it’s all so spread out that Sam and Dean have been spending a lot of downtime at the bunker, and it’s starting to drive Dean a little stir crazy.

“Hey.”

Dean looks up from the computer to see Sam walking up to him, a notepad in his hand and a pencil between his teeth. Nerd.

“Find anything?”

Dean shakes his head, closing the computer and pushing it away. “Nadda.”

Sam grimaces and sits down across from him, setting the notepad and tapping on the table with the pencil. Dean resists the urge to swipe the pencil out of his hand and snap it in two. He’s not feeling that childish. Yet.

“Well, in the meantime,” Sam says, oblivious to Dean’s mental deterioration, “I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”

Dean raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“So it’s been pretty quiet out there for a while,” Sam says, “and it doesn’t look like that’s changing anytime soon.” He pauses like he’s hesitant or something, which makes Dean start to wonder if he’s going to be a fan of this idea. He can already think of a few things just off the top of his head that Sam might decide would be a good use of their time that Dean will shoot down so fast Sam’s head will spin.

“Well. I was thinking. We could take the opportunity... I mean, we’ve got a few things we’ve done or haven’t done or wish we did or something that we... well, we regret.”

Dean’s trying not to judge too quickly, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like where this is going.

“What’s your point, Sammy?”

“I was thinking we could make a list,” Sam says, barrelling forward. “And maybe we could try to fix them. Yeah, there are a lot of things we can’t do anything about, but there have got to be at least a few things... Like I was thinking about Sarah. I could find her husband and kid and tell them what happened. Maybe give them some money or something, I don’t know. We could try to find Chuck. Or at least figure out what happened to him.”

Dean stopped listening around the “fix them” part. Regrets he could fix. There are a number of regrets that come to mind immediately, but they’re all things he can’t do anything about. Mom. Dad. Kevin. Those ten years in Hell. That year Sam was with Ruby. Lisa and Ben. Cas. But what can he actually fix? Or even try to?

“You wanna put anything on the list?” Sam is asking, pencil hovering over his notepad and looking maybe a little hopeful, and suddenly Dean actually has an answer for him.

“Benny.”

He fights a wince after he says it. It just came out of his mouth before he even really thought about it, and now he’s realizing Sam might not exactly be on board with that. But there’s something off about Sam’s expression, something Dean can’t read.

“What about him?”

“Get him outta there. Do right by him this time.” Not abandon him.

Sam nods, and Dean tries to be subtle about his sigh of relief.

“We’ll add it to the list.”

* * *

It takes a while. Hunting still comes first, and some of the other things on the list are easier. Eventually they decide the best way to get Dean back to Purgatory is by finding one of the few Leviathans left on the planet and killing it like Dick. It takes at least a month to find the ingredients after that. The blood of the ruler of Hell is by far the easiest since they’ve got an agreement with him. Sam has to do some convincing to get Cas’s help to find a fallen angel when he tells him why they need it. Cas doesn’t qualify anymore. Dean stubbornly stays out of that conversation, but finally Cas cooperates. The Alpha’s blood is the hardest. After the mess with Samuel all those years ago, it takes a lot of torturing and tracking to find the Alpha Vampire again. But he gives up the blood fairly easily after they explain they’re trying to get one of his children back from Purgatory. Then it’s just a matter of finding a Leviathan.

Dean almost backs out last minute, freaking out about how in the world Benny’s gonna react. But Sam gives him a good pep talk and, before he knows it, Dean’s back in that god-awful, humid, putrid, fear-driven place, and he’s searching for everyone’s favorite vampirate.


	2. A Reason to Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter has the one exception to the canon compliant up to 10.18 thing. I couldn't resist.

When Dean finally, _finally_ finds Benny there’s a forest fire.

Dean’s willing to bet some dumbass newly-dead monster decided a campfire would be nice and cozy, and it drew the attention of every starving creature out there, and things got out of control fast. Benny’s just standing there, back to Dean, watching the fire lick it’s way closer, fast as a fucking freight train. It’s pretty far back for now, though it won’t be for long, and Benny’s just cool as a cucumber, watching the fire like it’s a pretty sunset or some shit. After a few moments Benny must decide it’s time to move because he turns away from the fire, looking ready to just walk on. That’s when he sees Dean.

Benny’s still as a rock, eyes wide like he’s seen a ghost. Which, Dean realizes, is probably pretty accurate in a way. Dean gives him a small little wave, feeling stupidly embarrassed under Benny’s stare.

“We should probably get outta here,” he calls over the crackling of the fire. It’s already hot as hell here normally, and the heat of the fire is practically unbearable. Benny glances back at the fire and, probably realizing how close it is, seems to snap out of it. He runs forward, grabbing Dean by the forearm painfully, and bolts away.

They don’t stop running until they can’t feel or hear the fire anymore, though Dean can still see smoke billowing above the trees. Dean gazes at the smoke, a little off center by how close the fire had gotten. He’d always wanted to be a firefighter as a kid. He’s yanked out of it when a large hand smacks him right across the face.

“Ow! Fuck!” he yelps, clutching at his cheek and staring at Benny in bewilderment. “What the fuck was that?”

Benny looks furious. It’s a little terrifying, actually, and it has Dean taking a step backwards and unconsciously going for Ruby’s knife.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Benny growls, getting right up in Dean’s face. “If you’re even real. If you’re not, you can just go fuck off.”

Dean blinks, and then he smiles, trying to hold back a snort. Benny glares.

“What’s so funny?

Dean shakes his head, rubbing at his cheek. “Nothing just… a few years back we were on a case, and, well, long story short, I was hallucinating being back here with you. So you thinking you’re hallucinating me just…. It’s a little funny, okay?”

Benny doesn’t look exactly convinced, but he also backs up a little, looking Dean up and down critically, so Dean counts it as a win.

“Look, I--I’m here to get you back up top,” Dean says, maybe a little nervously. “You don’t belong here, Benny, you--”

“Don’t belong up there either, brother.”

Dean scowls. “Okay, maybe not, but I’m--I’m not gonna abandon you this time, okay? I ain’t gonna leave you out to dry.”

Benny frowns at him for a moment. “Your brother kick the bucket?”

“What?” Dean says, confused. “No. No, he helped me get back here, Sam’s behind this.”

Benny’s still frowning this small little frown, his eyebrows all pinched together. Then he shakes his head.

“I stayed behind for a reason, brother,” he says gently, turning to leave. “Reason ain’t changed.”

Dean stupidly realizes how much he’s missed the guy’s rich Cajun accent. Something about it just screams home-cooked meals and catching fireflies.

“Wait!” Dean jumps forward as Benny starts to walk away, grabbing his arm and pushing him back around to face him. Dean’s pretty sure he looks disgustingly pathetic right now, but goddammit, he came back here to save the bastard, and he’s not going down without a fight.

“Benny, look, I know I fucked up last time, and I fucked up bad, and I let you down, and then I went and asked you to come back here for something you weren’t even involved in, but I swear to god, that won’t happen this time. Me and Sam don’t live out on the road no more, we got a home, and it’s a little weird, but there’s lots of room, and a space with your name on it. You could hunt with us, or you could find a job in town, or, or you can do whatever you want, man, but you won’t have to go it alone this time. I fucking promise you that.”

Benny looks a little surprised at the monologue. Not that Dean can blame him, he’s not entirely sure where it came from himself. But Benny also still doesn’t look convinced. He’s starting to shake his head again, mouth opening with another argument when Dean does something ridiculous.

Dean kisses him.

Well, he really just smashes his mouth against Benny’s. Teeth click together painfully, and Benny’s beard really kinda tickles, and it’s not cute or sexy or romantic or anything like that, it’s fucking desperate and frantic and _wrecked_ , and then Dean steps back, face red and breathing hard. He’s pretty sure he’s never been so embarrassed in his entire life, but he fights it down and holds Benny’s gaze firmly. Maybe he just fucked himself over, maybe Benny’s about to storm away without a word, and Dean’s never gonna see him again, but Dean’s done being ashamed.

And Benny’s staring, a little slack-jawed. It’s quiet, just two men staring hard at each other, for far too long. There’s a snap of someone stepping on a twig nearby.

Both Dean and Benny turn instinctively toward the noise. Benny places a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Don’t suppose you even remember how to get to that portal, do ya?”

Shifters are coming out from behind the trees, and it’s officially time to get going, but Benny’s voice is low and warm, and Dean feels himself grinning like a lunatic.

“Not really,” he admits. Benny chuckles.

“Sure good thing I do then, huh?”

And then they’re running.


	3. Dean Discovers a New Kink

Being back in Purgatory is _awesome_.

Turns out the portal is a couple days away. Dean and Benny fall into a familiar routine immediately and without thinking about it, and it’s so good and _pure_ Dean can’t help but grin so much his cheeks start hurting. Benny calls him out on it, calling him a dumbass, but Dean just keeps grinning. Benny’s coming home. Nothing can bring Dean down.

That is, until they run into a pack of five or six vamps who all seem to have a beef with Benny.

“Our Father sends his regards,” one growls before it tries to tear off Benny’s face. Benny manages to throw the guy to the ground, ripping out his neck with his teeth, and spitting out a mouthful of flesh before muttering,

“That’s because he’s too much of a coward to face me himself again.”

Dean only barely hears it and is completely taken off guard. Had Benny run into his maker again down here? And what about Andrea? God, that couldn’t have been fun. Dean turns toward Benny, trying to gauge the man’s expression, idiotically distracted.

Dean turns his attention back to the fight at hand just in time to avoid teeth in the neck, but he’s too slow to miss the vamp entirely. She latches herself onto the first body part she can reach, and Dean tumbles, losing his grip on Ruby’s knife, pinned by the vampire attached to his thigh. He could be imagining it, but he’s sure he feels the pull of her in his veins, blood being drawn out too quickly. He tries kicking her off, but his vision is swimming from the fall and she’s got too strong a hold.

There’s suddenly one of those awesome Purgatory blades lodged in the vamp’s back, and she pulls off Dean’s leg with a snarl, just in time to have the blade yanked out and her head chopped off. Benny finishes off the remaining vamp in a heartbeat as Dean shakily pushes himself back up and scoots backwards on his ass to lean against a tree. This is just awesome. Dean gingerly pulls back denim to inspect the gash, hissing in pain. She’d really gotten in deep, and he’s bleeding freely all over his jeans and the dirt and dead leaves. He’s just lucky it didn’t manage to hit the artery.

“You gotta help me wrap this thing up,” Dean says as steady as he can manage. Benny doesn’t answer. Dean looks up.

Benny’s standing about two feet away, eyes fixed on Dean’s leg, looking blank and still as stone.

Son of a bitch.

Well, just fucking great.

“Benny?”

A muscle by Benny’s nose twitches, and he wrenches his gaze away, tense as a bow. “I can’t,” he croaks hoarsely. Dean grits his teeth.

“There’s no way I’m walking on this, man, you either gotta help me wrap it up or fucking carry me the rest of the way.” Dean shifts a bit, rocking forward to put a little weight on it and--yeah, no, no fucking way.

“Dean...”

Benny looks like he’s being tortured. Dean swallows thickly. How much worse would it’ve been all those years ago when he’d been turned if someone had been injured; Sam, Lisa, Ben....

“If you... if you took a drink, just... would you be able to focus enough to help me out?”

Benny’s staring at Dean, eyes impossibly wide.

“You’re serious.”

“Would it help?” Dean pushes, gritting his teeth. Benny’s quiet for a moment, eyes flicking quickly between Dean’s face and his leg.

“I don’t know,” he admits, quiet and gruff.

“Do it.”

Benny fidgets, and Dean lets his head fall back against the tree. His jeans are soaked, stained dark, and his breath is getting shallow. When he looks back up, Benny’s a lot closer and down on his knees, face stony and shut off. They share one final look, and Dean gives him a grimace that’s supposed to be reassuring.

“Just don’t kill me.”

Benny throws him a thoroughly unamused glare, fangs starting to show. Then he’s on the wound, and Dean can feel the drain of blood pick up pace.

Oh my god. Dean’s head is swimming, but for an entirely different reason now. Benny adjusts his grip on Dean’s leg, fingers just brushing along Dean’s cock, and a gasp escapes Dean’s lips. He’s hyper aware of Benny’s long, smooth teeth in his thigh, even though all he’d felt was pain when the vampire lady had chomped down. Benny lets off for a moment, taking in a deep breath, before getting back to it with renewed purpose. Dean might let out a small groan, reaching out and grabbing onto Benny’s head, fingers curling in his hair, just for something to hold onto. God, he’s gonna come in his pants like a teenager in the middle of fucking Purgatory with vampire fangs in his leg.

Just when the edges of Dean’s vision start greying, Benny pulls back suddenly, stumbling slightly and wiping at his mouth, eyes wild and bright. Dean lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and hopes desperately that Benny’s too distracted to notice anything, but of course he fucking does. His eyes glance at the stupidly obvious bulge in Dean’s jeans, lingering a little too long, and he smirks.

“You like that, huh?”

Dean feels his face flush dark, and he scowls. “Fuck off.”

Benny chuckles but thankfully doesn’t push. Instead he helps Dean pull off his flannel and starts tearing it into strips. Gently, he mops up the blood as best as he can and ties the cloth around the wound, careful to not pull too tight yet still tight enough to hopefully stop the bleeding. With some significant effort on both their parts, Benny manages to pull Dean up to his feet.

“Think you can walk?”

Dean puts weight on the leg and winces. “I’ll manage. Let’s get moving.” He starts limping forward, already not looking forward to the rest of the journey, hopefully they’re fucking close because Dean is really not sure how long he can keep this up, when he’s stopped by a large hand on his wrist. Startled, thinking maybe they took too long and another monster’s shown up, Dean turns, on high alert. He’s completely caught off guard when Benny leans in and kisses him, soft and stupidly sweet, on the lips. Dean finds himself staring, feeling the heat rise in his face, and Benny just smiles.

Well.

Okay.

Awesome.


	4. Dean's Recognized

Dean wants to ask how much farther. But he doesn’t want Benny to worry. Dean can’t really tell how long it’s been anymore, and he’s not sure how much control he’s got over keeping his voice steady. Which is probably a bad sign. But, hey, he recognizes that so it can’t be too bad. They’ve gotta be close. He’ll be fine.

Something moves in the corner of Dean’s eye, and he turns, bolts of pain running up his leg and making his vision swim. As soon as he can focus again he peers through the trees and, sure enough, someone’s creeping towards them.

Fuck.

The guy is kinda short. He’s got longer hair and a matching beard, dark and curled. He had the creepiest smile the first time Dean saw him. This time he just looks confused.

“You’re human,” the vampire says, solving the mystery of whether or not he recognizes Dean as well. Dean shoots a glance at Benny. Benny doesn’t know. Dean can’t let this guy tell Benny about the time the sleeze turned Dean into a monster.

Dean’s maker hasn’t noticed Benny yet. His eyes are stuck on Dean as he walks closer with a deep frown. Dean sees Benny tighten his grip on his blade.

“You can’t be human. I tur--”

Dean swings.

The machete catches the long hair, cutting through muscle and bone. A fraction of a second later Dean realizes he’d stepped forward with his bad leg, which collapses the moment his foot hits the ground. Dean topples right on top of the body with a yelp as the head rolls away.

“Jesus Christ!” Benny hurries to him, reaching a hand out and looking freaked. “What in god’s name was that? I coulda handled it!”

Dean takes Benny’s hand and struggles back up to his feet, grimacing. “I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he says, avoiding Benny’s eyes.

There’s a moment where Dean thinks Benny’s gonna push. He isn’t moving, and Dean can feel his piercing eyes boring a fucking hole through his head. But then the moment passes, and Benny continues forward.

They’ve gotta be close.


	5. Something Goes Wrong

Finally. Dean would let out a sigh of relief if he had the breath for it.

But there, over the cliff, there’s the glowing blue portal, a bright splash of color in this world of browns and greys. Benny turns to him with a grin.

“Almost there.”

Dean straightens and starts rolling up his sleeve. “You ready?”

Benny looks thoroughly unimpressed. “You’re a dumbass, y’know that?”

“What?”

“There ain’t no way we’re doin’ this now, you still gotta get all the way up there!” Benny says. “Didn’t Leviathan attack last time after we’d done the ritual? What if that happens again?”

“Last time they were after the angel,” Dean argues, “and he’s not here this time--”

“I’m not lettin’ you fend for yourself all the way up that thing and over there,” Benny interrupts. “We’ll do it when we get closer.”

“Benny, that portal’s strong, if it actually pulls me in, and you--”

“I said no, Dean.”

Dean glares at him, but Benny’s got his arms folded across his chest, an eyebrow raised challengingly.

“Fine,” Dean growls. “We’ll have to move fast, though, so you’re not left behind.”

Benny smiles and nods. “Let’s get movin’ then.”

* * *

The winds are just as strong as Dean remembers. But the climb, the race to the portal, is so much worse. Twice Dean almost loses his balance and tumbles down the side of the cliff, but both times Benny catches him, giving him a “told ya so” look. Dean ignores him and pushes forward. They’re maybe fifty feet away when Dean can really start feeling the pull. Thirty feet when he grabs Benny by the arm.

“Now, Benny, we’re doing this now before it’s too late.”

Benny’s lips thin, but after a brief moment he nods. “Okay. Okay, let’s do this.”

Dean starts rolling up his sleeve and mentally going through the incantation when Benny places a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey. Don’t do anythin’ stupid, okay? Just get through there fast.”

Dean rolls his eyes at him. “I’ll be fine. Sam’s waiting for us right around where I should pop out, and I buried you not too far away. Another fifteen minutes, and everything’ll be back to normal.”

“Lot can happen in fifteen minutes.”

“Will you relax?” Dean bites out, annoyed, and stubbornly ignoring the way the ground seems to shift beneath him. “I got it handled.”

He makes the cut. They grip each other’s arms.

“ _Conjunti sumus, unum sumus_ ,” he says through gritted teeth. There’s that strange orangish light, and Benny’s nestled comfortably in Dean’s forearm.

The world is spinning, and Dean’s not sure if it’s because of his leg, the portal, or the soul in his fucking arm. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He’s fine. He’s almost there. It’s fine.

The portal’s pull feels stronger than last time. Dean’s stumbling over his own goddamn feet trying to stay upright. He’s almost there.

He’s a fucking idiot and steps through the portal with his right leg, so all of his weight is suddenly on his left, the one with the two sets of vampire teeth marks, and he falls, but he throws himself toward the portal desperately, and his leg is screaming at him, and his arm feels funny, and there’s this sensation like he’s being sucked in by the universe’s most powerful vacuum--

* * *

“Dean! Dean, is that you? Dean!”

Sam. That’s Sam’s voice. That means he’s back. He made it. He’s fine. He made it back.

“Jesus, what happened to you?”

The floppy haired gigantor is suddenly right in front of him, and he’s got that face, that worried like hell face, and Dean wants to smack him for it. He’s fine, all right? He made it, he’s fine, it’s fine.

“Did you get him?”

“Yeah,” Dean manages. He holds out his arm, swirling light mass glowing in the darkness.

“What happened to your leg? It looks--” There’s a sudden hiss. Dean’s honestly not too sure if it was him or Sam.

“We should get you to a hospital--”

“No,” Dean grabs Sam’s arm as the giant tries to haul him up to his feet. “Benny’s buried just over there, we gotta take care of him first.”

“Dean, you’re---”  
“I also have a glowing orange soul in my arm, what do you think a hospital would say about that?”

Sam’s quiet, lips pursed unhappily. Dean takes the moment to rub at his arm irritably. The guy really is squirming in there. He managed to be patient a lot longer last time, what the hell is up?

“‘Sides,” he continues with a grumble. “You can take care of it yourself when we’re done here. It ain’t as bad as it looks, promise.”

“Fine. Fine, we’ll take care of Benny first,” Sam says gruffly. “But then we’re getting you patched up before we drive home.”

Sam helps him to his feet and tries to help him walk, but Dean pushes him away. He’s not a child. He’s fine. Sam doesn’t comment.

“I dug him up while you were gone,” he says instead as they walk. “Figured you might not want to take the time to do that right after Purgatory.”

Dean can hear the “you’re fucking welcome” in that. And Dean’s not going to say thank you, no way. Yeah, sure, maybe he wouldn’t be able to make it through digging up a grave, but he’s fine. It’s fine.

“I’ll let you two…” Sam trails off, and Dean has no idea how that sentence was going to end. He doesn’t know what Sam thinks is going on, but Benny’s soul is squirming like a fish trying to get back in the water, and Dean just stumbles to the open grave while Sam goes back to the car. The stench of Benny’s decomposing body, barely anything but bones left, has Dean’s vision going fuzzy. He shakes his head, pulling himself together.

“Calm the fuck down, Jesus,” Dean hisses as the soul pushes painfully, pulling out the knife. “Two more seconds, you son of a bitch, calm down.”

Everything goes black. Just for a moment, and Dean tries with everything he has to keep the soul spilling out onto the remains. When colors start swimming back into his vision he’s collapsed on the pile of dirt, and Benny is standing to the side, rolling out a crick in his neck.

“That was a lot rougher than last time,” he rumbles. Dean pinches at the bridge of his nose. Everything’s spinning, and he can hear his heartbeat rushing through his own goddamn head.

“Whoa, brother, you okay? Ah, shit, you’re bleedin’ again. Should be able to actually patch it up now, though... Wait a second.”

There’s something in Benny’s voice, something off, like he’s maybe about to start freaking out. Dean forces his eyes open and frowns at him.

“What?”

“You’re bleedin’ again,” he says slowly, like that information is something earth-shattering and needs some serious thought.

“Yeah? So?”

“I can’t smell it.”

A beat.

“What?”

“I can’t smell it, Dean. I can see you’re bleedin’, but I don’t smell it.” Yeah, Benny’s definitely freaking out a little right now, but Dean doesn’t get why. If he can’t smell the blood, then he….

Benny opens his mouth with a low growl and looks absolutely ridiculous.

There aren’t any fangs.

Oh. _That’s_ why he’s freaking out.

“How the hell…?” Dean starts, moving to push himself back up.

“You guys okay?” Sam asks, approaching.

“Benny’s lost the vampire bits,” Dean says without preamble. Benny looks a little annoyed, but Sam’s the smart one, he’ll know what’s going on.

Sam, of course, looks fascinated. “What do you mean?”

“The teeth are gone, and he said he can’t smell my blood.”

“It’s like I’m human again.”

Dean can still hear his heart thudding violently, and it’s fucking distracting. His leg doesn’t feel quite so bad, though, so he manages to push himself back to his feet. Sam and Benny are talking, probably trying to figure out what the hell is going on, but Dean’s too focused on his heartbeat. It’s weird, actually. It’s beating so fast and erratically that it kinda sounds like more than one.

“We should clean that up.”

“Yeah, we’re not going anywhere without taking care of your leg first.”

“...Dean?”

Oh, they’re talking to him.

Dean nods. Benny’s looking sideways at him, probably because he noticed Dean checking out on them for a moment there, but it wasn’t his leg. It was his heartbeat being freakishly loud. He’s fine. It’s fine.


	6. Sam Gets a Papercut

Dean falls asleep on the way back to the bunker. Sort of. It’s a weird sleep. He can hear Benny and Sam talking softly the entire time, but he can’t tell what they’re saying. And maybe he falls asleep in the back of the Impala with his head in Benny’s lap, but that’s just because the bear of a man insisted on it, and Dean was too tired to argue. Besides, the dude’s comfy.

Dean can feel the car pull to a stop and the engine cut off, and then Benny’s shaking his shoulder gently, his voice a low murmur.

“We’re here, Dean.”

Dean grumbles and squeezes his eyes tight. It must be morning because he can see the sunlight through his eyelids. Fucking bright.

Benny chuckles. “I could carry you in if you want.”

Dean pries one eye open to glare at him. “I’m good.”

After they get back inside Dean’s feeling a lot better. Almost normal again. He can still hear his fucking heartbeat like a marching band in his brain, and something about the light is giving him a bit of a headache, but it’s not any worse than the normal shit he deals with everyday. Benny’s looking at him a little funny, but that might just be because he’s still freaking out about the lack of vampire bits.

Sam’s already pulling books off the shelves, flipping through them, all excited about his new project.

“What’re you lookin’ for?” Benny asks.

“The people who put this place together, they were called the Men of Letters, they did a lot of research on the paranormal,” Sam says distractedly. “They might have run into a case like this before and know how to fix it.”

“Fix it?” Benny echoes. Sam looks up with a wince.

“I--I don’t mean fix it. Well, maybe. We don’t know what the consequences of this might be yet. You could be in danger.”

“Of what?” Benny asks, a hard set to his jaw. “Bein’ human? Dyin’? Livin’ a normal life?”

“I don’t know, Benny,” Sam says. “I just want to make sure, that’s all.”

Benny doesn’t push anymore, but he still looks annoyed. He turns to Dean, and he’s just about to say something when Sam gets a papercut.

It’s just a papercut, small and stupid. Sam lets out a hiss and sucks at the cut on his thumb absently, focus still on his research. Dean’s staring at the cut, though, the smell of it, and, god, it smells better than homemade apple pie.

“Dean.”

It’s not enough, though. The blood’s already practically gone, the cut too shallow to really do any good. A little further down the arm, though, right there on the wrist, would do the trick. Enough blood to fill anyone’s thirst.

“Dean!”

Thick fingers snap inches from Dean’s nose, and he blinks, startled.

Fuck.

Benny’s figured it out too, Dean can tell, and the son of a bitch is gonna tell Sam.

“Sam,” Benny calls, not taking his eyes off Dean. Dean wants to interrupt, stop him, tell him he’s fine, there’s nothing to worry about, but there’s this big ball of panic lodged in his throat.

“I think I know what’s goin’ on.”

“Yeah?”

“Somethin’ went wrong. Mispronounced word, maybe, who knows.” Benny’s blue eyes are fixed on Dean, and there’s something like sympathy there. Dean hates him for it.

“I think somehow a part of my soul--the vampire bit--didn’t make it back to my body. And now it’s stuck in Dean.”

And there it is.

Sam’s not by his books anymore. Dean doesn’t know when that happened. But Sam’s way too close and looking at him funny.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“He doesn’t mean anything,” Dean finally manages. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Benny says, and god help him, Dean really might kill him. “You notice yet you’re standin’ on that leg of yours just fine? You forgot about it, didn’t you?”

Something nasty twists in Dean’s stomach.

“You got the teeth?” Sam asks, reaching out and then thinking better of it, all with the hand that has that fucking papercut. Dean flinches away at the smell, mouth watering.

“Sam,” he grits. “Your thumb.”

“Jesus,” Sam says, stepping back way too quickly. Dean’s gonna be sick.

“Do you got the teeth?” Benny asks, looking a lot more curious than Dean’s really comfortable with. Dean runs his tongue along his gums and shakes his head. And his leg hasn’t actually healed, now that he’s looking, he just… it just doesn’t bother him.

Sam’s running a hand down his face, eyes wide as fucking plates. At least he’s actually freaking out this time.

“I, uh. I’ll see what I can dig up,” he says. “There’s gotta be a way to fix this.”

Sam’s also being super awkward, and Dean would hit him if he didn’t feel a little light-headed. Sam backs away, eyeing Dean, before turning back to his books, pulling a couple more off the shelves.

“I know it’s not botherin’ you,” Benny says, “but we should redress that leg of yours.”


	7. A Good Morning

The only reason Dean goes to bed anymore is because... well, to be honest, he’s missed sleeping next to someone. Not that he’s actually sleeping. But Benny is. Turns out Benny snores. Which isn’t really surprising, and it’s not loud, but it does add to everything else Dean can hear laying in the dark. Sam’s heartbeat in the room down the hall, the creaking of pipes in the walls, the wind rustling through the trees outside.

Benny’s heartbeat is getting faster, and his body temperature is getting warmer. Dean’s about to get worried when Benny lets out a low, small moan and shifts.

Oh.

Dean squirms under the covers, trying desperately not to wonder about the specifics of Benny’s dream. Problem is, trying to not think about it makes him think about it even more. They sleep in the same bed, sure, but that had been an unspoken agreement. Other than that moment in Purgatory, nothing’s happened.

Benny turns over, facing Dean now, and his face scrunches as he slowly wakes up. Dean gives him a smile.

“You want some help with that?” he asks, running his fingers through the curls on Benny’s bare chest.

“Mm,” Benny responds contentedly, eyes still closed. Dean grins. Benny’s sort of adorable when he first wakes up.

Dean kisses the skin of Benny’s chest, working his way down before Benny places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, firmly preventing him from going any farther.

“Come back up here,” he rumbles, and then he’s practically pulling Dean up. Which is so not a turn on.

Benny cups Dean’s face gently and kisses him, long and deep and sensual. Dean realizes after a moment that he’s letting out small little moans, and he can’t be bothered to be embarrassed about it. He can feel Benny smiling under his lips and the hard, thick line of his cock pressed up against his legs. His beard tickles a bit--it’s a little weird. Better than scruff, though, that just itches. But Benny’s beard is nice and full and soft.

Benny moves his hands from Dean’s cheeks to the back of his head and neck, and Dean takes the opportunity to explore--behind Benny’s ear, along his neck, his collarbone (a good spot, apparently, Dean’ll have to come back to that), and then re-finding his earlier course. This time Benny lets him, a hand still in his hair, eyes fluttered closed.

Dean spends some time sucking marks along the line of Benny’s boxers before sliding them off. After tossing the boxers to the side Dean sits back to take it in.

There’s a lot to take in.

Dean always knew Benny had to be well endowed. The thickness of his fingers alone made that obvious. Benny’s cock is massive and heavy and straining. Dean’s breath comes in short as he stares.

“You just gonna look or’re you gonna do somethin’ ‘bout it?”

Dean jerks, startled, and looks up to see Benny smirking at him. Dean scowls and lightly smacks his thigh.

“Shut up.”

Benny chuckles, but Dean astutely ignores him, settling back down to kiss at Benny’s hips and thighs. He doesn’t waste too much time there, however--he’s too eager, too curious to see what he can do with such a thick, solid cock. He kisses down the shaft, glancing up at Benny’s face when he pressed a firm kiss to the head. Benny groans, fingers twitching. Dean can’t help but grin.

Dean tries to take his time, pressing his tongue at the base of Benny’s cock and up, nosing at his swollen red balls, just barely sucking on the tip of his cock, but he’s too impatient. He takes a deep breath and dives in. Benny cries out, a hand back in Dean’s hair like he’s holding on for dear life.

Benny’s cock hits the back of Dean’s throat--something he would normally be a little proud of. His mouth and jaw are already protesting and tears are springing to the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t notice. What he does notice is the smell.

Not the heady, earthy smell of arousal and precome, no. That’s drowned out by the intoxicating, steady and quick thrumming of Benny’s blood.

Above Dean, Benny is breathing deep and fast, hips jerking in small aborted movements. Dean tries to gather himself--he’s fine, he can do this, he’s a fucking pro, not to mention Benny was able to drink his blood in Purgatory and back off before it was too late, Dean can fucking handle this--and gets back to it. All the tricks--swallowing around the head, hollowing out his cheeks--but he can’t focus, he can’t breathe. Benny’s pulse just keeps getting faster, his balls keep getting tighter. Dean can feel the veins in Benny’s cock pulse under his lips, and all he wants to do is run his teeth along the line of one of those veins, slice it open cleanly and beautifully, and--

Dean pulls off with a gasp, scrambling backwards and away, back to his side of the bed, swinging his legs off the mattress and grasping at the edge with his hands in some desperate attempt to ground himself.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Inhale two three four five six seven, hold two three four five six seven, exhale two three four five six seven.

Benny’s heartbeat is still pounding, and he might be saying something. Slowly it starts to steady, and Dean can feel the mattress shift as Benny comes up behind him. He kisses Dean’s shoulders ever so gently.

“I shoulda warned you.”

Dean shakes his head. “I shoulda thought about it.”

Benny’s quiet for a moment, continuing to press his lips softly to Dean’s skin, steadily, gently, comfortingly.

“C’mon,” he says after a moment. “There are ways around that.”

Dean shakes his head again. “Benny, I--”

“I could give you a blowjob,” Benny suggests huskily. “I mean, I ain’t ever done that before but--”

“See, and I’m pretty damn good at them,” Dean interrupts, turning to frown at Benny. He’s propped up on one elbow, completely and beautifully naked, watching Dean expectantly.

“They’re kind my... well, my speciality,” Dean continues, shoving down the embarrassment for now. “I’m fucking good at giving blowjobs, Benny, and I--”

Benny moves suddenly, surging forward and silencing Dean with a kiss.

“So we’ll get back to that when we fix this,” he says when he pulls back. “Somethin’ to look forward to.”

Dean feels himself deflate. Benny kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Here,” he murmurs. “Lay down.”

Dean lets Benny move him, push him back down onto the mattress and pillows, and slide off Dean’s boxers with a certain sort of tenderness. Benny actually does take his time, unlike Dean, every movement full of affection and warmth, almost enough that Dean wants to pull away and shut himself off. But not quite. He’s been there before, showered in too much blind adoration that he couldn’t handle it and had to leave, but Benny’s found this balance apparently, this balance where Dean almost feels... safe.

By the time Benny finally takes him in his mouth, Dean’s hands are scrabbling at sheets just to release some of the tension. Benny’s technique is sloppy and wet, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He can feel spit dripping down his balls and the occasional too hard scrape of teeth, but Benny keeps glancing up at him, and he can’t really smile with Dean’s cock in his mouth, but Dean can tell he’s smiling anyway in those giant blue eyes. Dean tries to stop himself from bucking up into Benny’s mouth, and he does manage to hopefully give some sort of warning with a scratch of nails in Benny’s hair, but he can’t, he can’t hold himself back any longer. Benny chokes a bit, but god help him, he takes it like a champ and doesn’t back off.

“B-- Benny--” Dean hisses, and Benny pulls off, wrapping a hand around Dean’s cock instead, just two short, hard strokes, and Dean’s coming, stuttering Benny’s name.

When the world comes back into focus, Dean looks down to see Benny grinning up at him, wiping the come off his face with a large hand.

“Jesus,” Dean whispers, tugging on Benny’s shoulder to get him to come back up to his level. Benny complies, still grinning, eyes bright. He kisses Dean, open-mouthed and deep, and Dean can taste himself on Benny’s tongue. Benny rolls off after a moment and snuggles into the blankets and pillows.

“Mmm. Naptime?”

Dean blinks at him, glancing down to where Benny’s cock is still straining.

“Dude. It’s your turn.”

Benny chuckles. “I’m fine, Dean.”

“I can see your fucking cock,” Dean argues. “No, you’re not.”

“Dean, I’m serious,” he says, sitting up. “If you’re not up to it--”

Dean practically shoves Benny back onto the mattress. “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve gotten you off, you asshole,” he growls. Benny’s eyes fly wide, but then he laughs.

“Okay then.”

Dean crawls on top of Benny with a little satisfied smile. “There’s lube and condoms in the bedside table.”

Benny stills underneath him. “You’re insane, y’know that?”

Dean draws back, feeling a bit offended. “What?”

“There’s... there’s a lot of preparation that needs to be done for that, and I... Look, this is new to me, okay? Gotta work up to it, y’know?”

“No, but I mean... what if... uh.” Dean’s floundering, and he can feel his cheeks and ears burning. “You. To... um. Me.”

Benny raises his eyebrows. “Have you seen this thing?” he says, gesturing down at himself. “Unless you got some pretty impressive dildos hidin’ around here somewhere you been practicin’ with, there’s no way you’re not gonna need some pretty extensive preparation too, dumbass.”

Dean moves to roll back off of Benny, but Benny stops him with a hand on his knee. “Hey. If you wanna go there, we can. I’m all for it, just... let’s not rush it, okay? It’s our first time.” With a little shifting, Benny sits up to give Dean another deep kiss, fingers running through his hair. Dean responds in kind, reaching between them to wrap his hand around Benny’s cock.

It doesn’t take long. After a moment, Benny’s rough hand covers Dean’s to guide him, help him hold a little tighter, move a little faster. Benny’s gasping into Dean’s mouth, free hand scratching at Dean’s back. Small, broken sounds escape Benny’s lips, and Dean tugs faster, harder until Benny’s head tips back and his entire body shudders.

Dean doesn’t pull off until the tremors stop and Benny lets his head drop, forehead against Dean’s shoulder. Dean wipes his hand off on the blankets, grinning stupidly. After a few moments of Benny trying to catch his breath, he pulls back to meet Dean’s eyes with a smile that... well, it kinda gives Dean butterflies, if he’s being honest.

“We should do that again sometime,” Benny says, voice low and rough. Dean laughs.

“Yeah. Yeah, we should.”


	8. Sam Has an Idea

Sam double, and then triple, checks that Dean and Benny are safely shut away in what’s quickly become “their room” on his way from the library to his bedroom. Cas is hardly ever late and he’s going to up and appear in Sam’s room any minute.

When Dean and Cas broke up, Sam insisted Cas swear off the front door. He doesn’t want to risk the certain blowup if Cas and Dean ever, _ever_ run into each other.

Sam locks the door and settles on the bed. He pulls the blanket over his legs even though he’s still in his shoes. He doesn’t want to look anxious, though he always feels anxious before Cas arrives. The lack of a formal entry makes him feel off balance. Cas just appears--Sam has no time to prepare and it’s hard to look purposeful without looking like he forgot Cas was coming.

After a moment, he grabs _Ulysses_ off his bedside table. He’s always meant to read it--if only to say he had--but he’s honestly barely touched it.  He mostly just pulls it out when he wants to wash the stupidity of yet another B horror flick off his body. He watches them with Dean-- _for_ Dean, really--but they always make him feel vaguely trashy. The only other time he read any of it was right after this Dean thing started. A convoluted, nonlinear narrative set far, far away seemed like the best way to get his mind off vampirism. It had only worked for a minute or two, but at least that was something.

When Cas gets there in a hushed rustling of feathers, Sam forces himself to wait a moment to look up so it’ll look like he was actually reading.

“Hey, Cas.”

He looks like he always does--stoic, mildly confused, and stubbly. It’s reassuring in the middle of this chaos that Cas looks just like he always does.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam can’t help the stupid grin on his face.

“How are you?” Sam dog ears his page and throws the blanket off his legs. He watches Cas follow the motion and frown when he sees Sam’s shoes.

Sam flushes.

“I’m well enough,” Cas replies, looking around the room. “May I sit?”

“Sure, yeah, go ahead,” Sam sits up. He can’t help but feel a little disappointed. A little jealous. It took moments for “Dean’s room” to become “Dean and Benny’s room.” But his room distinctly and stubbornly resists becoming “his and Cas’ room” even though they’ve spent hours there unbeknownst to Dean. Mostly innocent hours discussing the monster disappearances, heaven politics, ancient cultures like a two-person study group.

Reaching out to Cas was Sam’s biggest contribution to the plan to make the Winchester debt right. He didn’t tell Dean--he’d have to be stupid to go there--but he tried straighten things out with Cas. It wasn’t supposed to come to anything specific. He just wanted to get rid of his mental picture of Cas by himself, frowned on by fellow angels and separated from any human. Alone. Because of them--because of _him_.

And of course Sam didn’t tell Cas that he’d become a pet project. That would’ve been insulting. Besides, it made things even. He was lying by omission to everyone he cared about.

Maybe somewhere along the line it became something more--a pleasant secret, then an exciting one. A quiet piece of espionage, a little rebellion that made him feel a bit like a contrary teenager.

It turned into something more, but only once. Sam’s fault. He misread the situation, ducked into an offered hug with a kiss instead. Cas hadn’t kissed back, of course he hadn’t. But he also hasn’t mentioned it since. Thank god.

Sam realizes Cas must have asked him something because he’s looking right at Sam expectantly.

“Sorry, I was . . . I was just thinking. What did you say?”

“How are you, Sam? Are you okay?”

Sam raises his eyebrows. He sometimes forgets that Cas cares. He just assumes that no one does.

“Yeah, I’m fine. But Dean . . . He’s not.”

Cas leans back a bit. “I assume that’s why you called.”

Sam nods. He can’t really deny it. He doesn’t have a ready-made excuse for asking Cas to come.

“Is he hurt?”

“You could say that. So he did the whole, um . . Purgatory thing. He found Benny okay and they made it out. He’s been . . . Benny’s been staying with us.”

Cas frowns and Sam so doesn’t want to get into this whole jealous ex-lover shit, so he keeps talking while taking as few breaths as possible.

“It’s just after they got back, Dean started acting kind of weird. Like, for example, he’d hurt his leg pretty bad down there, but he didn’t even seem to notice it once they got back up top. We think maybe the incantation got recited wrong or the portal surged while they passed through it or some other weird shit. But we think Dean sort of . . . well, he maybe thinks that . . . They, um-”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“We can’t be super certain because, well, we’ve never needed a test for this kind of thing, but we think the vampiric part of Benny’s soul is in Dean now.”

“Your brother’s a vampire again?” Cas sounds terse and tense. Sam can’t really blame him. Maybe calling Dean and Benny “soulmates” would be a bit of a stretch but part of Benny’s soul is physically inside Dean. That’s a kind of intimacy few people have. A kind of intimacy that maybe no one else _ever_ has had. Definitely a kind of intimacy Dean and Cas never had.

“Sort of. He has all the cravings and the wicked strong senses, but no teeth. And, so far as I know, he hasn’t actually . . . you know, drunk anyone.”

“How does he _always_ get tied up in this shit?” Cas is exasperated now and, god, Sam can practically taste the lingering emotion in the air.

Sam sighs. “He tries to be a hero, that’s how.”

Cas purses his lips and Sam instantly knows how Cas feels about that particular character trait in Dean. Probably about the same as Sam does, just with less endearment now.

“Let me guess. You want me to cure him.”

“No, Cas . . . I didn’t just-”

“I can’t do it, Sam. I wouldn’t even know where to start--I’ve never heard of a soul dividing. Not ever.”

“We haven’t either. That’s not why I called. I just . . .” Sam closes his eyes. God, Dean makes life so frustratingly complicated sometimes. Even when he’s not in the goddamn room. “I need to bounce some ideas off of someone. I need to . . . I need to be doing something. Sorry, I know he’s not your problem anymore. I shouldn't’ve asked.”

Sam opens his eyes slowly, blinking a couple times to make absolutely fucking sure he doesn’t cry over this mess in front of Cas.

Cas is right there. Like, right fucking there.

If Sam had been expecting the kiss--which he definitely wasn’t--he would’ve expected the full force of Cas’ angelic power like Cas couldn’t curb his holy wrath when touching Sam.

So when Cas meets him soft, with tentative fingers curled in his hair, Sam gasps.

Cas pulls back instantly.

“I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t’ve-”

“No--no! Don’t stop,” Sam’s reacting too slowly, watching this kiss devolve the same way the last one did.

“Please, Cas, I . . . I want . . .” Sam should finish his sentence, but he just can’t. Can’t ask for something he doesn’t deserve and then lose it.

Cas looks right at Sam--right through him--like he’d just voiced his self-depreciating panicking out loud.

“Oh, Sam.”

Sam shrank. “Jesus, Cas, this isn’t about me--I just really needed you, I just really was hoping you could help me with this Dean thing. I know you don’t . . . Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? We can just-”

Sam doesn’t realize how much he’s gesturing until Cas catches his hands. Until Cas starts rubbing small, soft, soothing circles on his skin.

“Sam . . .” Cas just doesn’t seem to look away, won’t let Sam look away. “When you kissed me-”

“God, I’m so sorry-”

“Sam--Sam, just listen? Please? When you kissed me . . . I . . . I find you hard to read sometimes. When you kissed me, you took me by surprise. I didn’t--I know what you thought my reaction meant. I didn’t when it happened so I didn’t bother to correct your assumption. I hoped you’d, you know, reach out again.” Cas sighs. “When you didn’t . . . I just wanted to give you a chance to lead. I know you often resent others attempting to control your life. I don’t want to control you.”

Sam blinks.

“You . . . it was okay? You’re not, like . . . I mean-”

“You didn’t offend me or impose on me or scare me.” Cas sounds like he can’t believe he has to explain something so simple.

“What was I supposed to think? Even normal humans who know what I’ve done--what I am--don’t want to touch me. Was I supposed to assume an angel of the fucking lord would be different?”

Cas looks like he wants to be irritated about the “fucking lord” thing but that he’s foregoing that. For now.

“Don’t you think I’ve known you long enough to realize that calling you . . . You’re so good, Sam. You don’t see yourself the way I do. You don’t even see yourself the way your brother does.”

Sam wants to stop swallowing, but if he does he might burst into ugly tears or break something. What Cas’s saying sounds better than Sam’s perception of his life on his best day.

He doesn’t realize the swallowing didn’t really do the trick, until Cas wipes away an actual fucking tear.

Even though Cas picks his words careful--slow, he doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t look away. He doesn’t stop stroking Sam’s cheek. “I . . . care about you, Sam. I want you to be happy. And I--I want you.”

Sam doesn’t mean to pounce. He really doesn’t. But it’s not every day he gets encouragement, or even permission, to kiss such a gorgeous guy.

They’ve known each other for so long that kissing doesn’t feel entirely new. Sam recognizes the way Cas’ mouth moves, the way he breathes, the way he moves with and toward Sam.

When Cas starts fingering the buttons on Sam’s plaid, Sam pulls off and sucks in a breath.

“You okay?” Cas’ voice is deep with a faint undertone of exertion. Like even though he doesn’t need to breathe, he’s been holding his breath anyway.

“So, _so_ okay.”

Cas’ face lights up so bright Sam could swear the expression is mojo powered.

“But I’ve got to get this Dean . . . thing figured out. Can we . . .?”

“Of course. Of course, Sam.” Cas presses a chaste kiss to Sam’s forehead.

When he comes back into Sam’s view, Cas is still legitimately smiling. He looks more open and happy than Sam’s seen him in years.

“I assume that in the meantime, we should try to solve world hunger and your brother’s vampirism?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I mean, I’d appreciate it. But you shouldn’t feel obligated by the world’s--or Dean’s--empty stomach.”

Cas purses his lips in a failing attempt to hide a laugh.

“You said you needed someone to bounce ideas off of, right? What are your ideas?”

Sam re-focuses. At least as much as he can with Cas scritching lightly at his scalp and playing with his hair.

“Okay. I don’t think we’re going to convince Dean, or Benny for that matter, to go back to Purgatory anytime soon. So I think we can rule out any kind of redo.”

“Logical.”

“Well, but I was also thinking . . .Some incantations work differently when recited backward. Maybe we could-”

“Take your brother’s soul, with its new attached bit, right back out of his body and put just it in Purgatory?”

“We don’t know that it’d teleport his soul back there.”

“Because you have no way of actually knowing what that particular incantation does backward. An exorcism’s pretty straightforward, but you can’t predict what interdimensional travel incantations do on good days, much less what it’ll do if you mess with the formula.”

Sam bites the inside of his cheek. Yeah, he’d mostly just been hoping Cas would have more of an idea of what a backward incantation might do.

“Okay, valid. I mean, just look at what this uncomplicated rescue mission’s turned into.”

“Exactly.”

Sam tips his head back. Maybe if he drops a couple big, stupid ridiculous ideas next, Cas’ll be more supportive of the only solution he thinks has a chance.

“Well, we just bugged the Alpha. But there’s got to be a god or goddess or patron saint or something of vampires. Maybe we could talk to them.”

Cas doesn’t say anything until Sam’s looking at him again. And his expression makes it clear he doesn’t find the suggestion impressive. “Most people’d probably point you to Selene--the Greek’s moon goddess. Her boyfriend’s supposed to have been the first ever vampire.”

“Wait, wouldn’t that make him an Alpha? I thought they were all Eve’s kids.”

“Herein lies the problem with pagan gods. Eve might be Selene. They could be sisters or rivals or two creators applying for the same patent. In any case, it doesn’t matter because you can’t get to Eve anymore.”

“True. I don’t even want to know what you’d have to do to reconstitute that body.” Sam tilts his head, going even bigger. “There can’t be just one vampire god though. Who else is there?”

“They don’t exactly have their own theology, Sam, much as teenagers of this decade seem to protest otherwise.”

“C’mon, Cas, there’s, like, a patron saint of  . . . beekeepers. And a patron saint of carnival workers.”

Cas still looks like he’s not buying any of Sam’s shit. Which he’s probably not, but he plays along. “Probably the best candidate is Yama. But I wouldn’t bug him, Sam, he runs the entire Hindu afterlife.”

“Just the consequences of people’s actions. Then they get reincarnated.”

“You’ve looked into him already.” It’s definitely not a question.

Sam fumbles his ready-made world religions class defense. “Okay, yeah . . . And you’re probably right about his schedule.”

“So what’s your actual idea, Sam?” Cas sits cross-legged on the bed, hands on his shins. His whole attention on Sam.

Fuck. He totally already knows. Sam really shouldn’t be surprised. Cas is an angel.

“You know . . . Dean hasn’t fed. At least not that we’ve heard and, well, he seems pretty damn turned off to everything remotely food-like. What if we used the Campbell’s cure?”

“With whose blood?”

Sam pauses. “Well, Benny’s the only vampire we have on hand. And I guess technically he’s the reason Dean’s this way. At least this time.”

“Law hinges on technicalities, Sam. Magic not so much.”

“We’d have to go to Purgatory for Dean’s old maker’s blood. Or Benny’s maker’s for that matter. That’s what started this shitshow in the first place.”

“Exactly.”

“We can just use Benny’s blood. It’s worth a try.” Sam wishes his assertion didn’t sound so much like a plea.

“I don’t think it will work, Sam.”

“I have to give Dean something--he’s going crazy.”

“Sam,” Cas strokes his hair and Sam closes his eyes. “I’m not sure he’ll appreciate the false hope.”

“Yeah, but he’s not appreciative of much lately.”

It sort of kills Sam to pull back, away from Cas’ touch. He rubs the back of his head like it will get rid of the phantom feeling of Cas’ hand, make it easier to leave this room and go back to watching newly-vampiric brother play puppy love with his newly-not-undead Cajun boyfriend knowing the only place this Cas thing can ever happen is behind closed doors.

Sam stands up, running his hands compulsively though his hair over and over. Trying so hard not to react too strongly, not to ruin whatever this could potentially be. “I’ve got to--I’m going to go . . . run this by them.”

“Sam,” Cas stands up and touches Sam’s arm, solid and warm.

“I . . . uh, I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“You don’t have to wait to call me. You know that, right?”

“Sure, Cas.” Sam’d die for the balls to look directly at him right now.

“I want to help.”

Sam nods quick then nods again a little more slowly.

Cas grabs his chin, quicker than light, and lifts it gently until they’re eye to eye. “I want to help you, Sam.”

Cas looks so intent. It’s simultaneously endearing and intimidating.

“Okay,” Sam swallows and lets himself touch Cas, run his hands down Cas’ sides in the natural lines of his trenchcoat. “Okay, Cas. Thanks--thank you.”

Cas smiles and Sam could swear he actually blushes like a goddamn teenager. Cas leans back in and kisses him and, god, Sam never thought he could actually have this.

“Keep me appraised,” Cas requests.

Cas is gone before Sam even responds.


	9. The Wrath of an Ex-Vampirate

Dean has a headache.

He’s trying to browse the internet for a hunt, but he can’t focus. Someone’s heart--he thinks it’s Sam’s--is beating really fucking loud and fast, and the computer is still too bright after dialing it down as far as possible. Benny’s in the kitchen making himself some lunch--a turkey and provolone sandwich with mayo, lettuce, and tomatoes--and it smells disgusting. Whistling cheerfully, Benny walks back out and sits down across from Dean, happily digging in. Dean watches him with distaste. Benny just smirks at him.

“You should eat somethin’, you know.”

“I know,” Dean grumbles. “I will. At some point.”

Benny cocks an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t push.

Sam walks in after a few moments of silence and sits on the edge of the table. “So I’ve been thinking. What if we tried the Campbell’s cure?”

Dean looks up at him skeptically. “It wouldn’t work.”

“Maybe not, but--”

“One, you can’t’ve already fed. This soul has. Two, whose blood would we even use? Benny’s maker’s dead,” Dean points out, counting with his fingers.

“What if we used Benny’s blood?”

Benny’s heartbeat is picking up speed, and Dean can see him looking confused as hell out of the corner of his eye. This is not a conversation Dean wants to have with Benny anytime ever.

“It’s his soul! That doesn’t even make sense, Sam!”

“Yeah, okay, but it’s worth a try, right?”

“You haven’t had to drink that stuff,” Dean gripes. “It’s not worth a try when we already know it won’t work.”

Sam glares at him, standing up. “I’m gonna gather the rest of the ingredients anyway.”

“It’s not gonna work!” Dean yells after him as he storms away. Once Sam is out of sight, Dean turns back to the laptop. Nothing happened. There’s nothing to talk about. There’s absolutely no reason for Benny to be staring at him with wide eyes, sandwich completely forgotten.

“Dean…” Benny starts quietly. Dean tries not to wince.

“Yeah?” Casual. Cool. No reason to have this conversation.

“What cure?”

Son of a bitch.

“It’s a… it’s a vampire cure,” Dean grits out, avoiding Benny’s gaze like the plague.

“Did you… did you find this recently or…?”

Goddammit. “A couple years before meeting you.”

Benny’s on his feet in one swift movement, chair toppling over with a crash, still staring at Dean like he’s just stabbed him in the gut.

“And you never thought to mention it?”

“Benny, it only works if you haven’t fed yet--”

“You said you’ve had to drink that stuff,” Benny interrupts, still pushing forward like a steam roller. “Why’ve you drunk a cure for vampires?”

Okay, Winchester, deep breath.

“Remember that guy, kinda round, long curly hair, we ran into back in Purgatory?”

“Yes.”

“He was my maker.”

Benny nods minimally, lips in a thin line, a muscle in his jaw jumping wildly. “So that’s why he was confused ‘bout you bein’ human.”

“Look, Benny,” Dean starts. “It was less than twenty-four hours, I didn’t even feed, I didn’t--”

“Oh, yes, because the great Dean Winchester is so good he can go twenty-four hours as a fuckin’ vampire ‘n’ not need to feed.”

“What?” Dean stares at him. “No, that’s not what I meant, I--”

“You just didn’t think it was important to tell me, that’s all,” Benny says scathingly. “I understand.”

Dean really has no idea how to respond to this. Benny’s always so cool and calm. Even when Dean fucking asked him to die so he could save his little brother, Benny just shrugged it off. Benny never gets angry. He stares at Benny, mouth gaping slightly, and trying hard to ignore how fast and heavy Benny’s heartbeat is. God.

“Maybe the cure didn’t have a chance of workin’ on me,” Benny says lowly. “But it still woulda been nice to know it existed.”

Then he turns and storms away, leaving a half eaten sandwich on the table.


	10. Benny Doesn't Leave

Dean’s been sleeping on the couch the past couple nights. Well, “sleeping”. After an hour or so he’ll pull out his phone and start scouring the internet for a hunt. With no luck. But that’s kind of the way life goes recently, isn’t it?

Dean just doesn’t know what to do to fix this. Usually they leave when fights like this happen, and, sure, maybe it tortures Dean for the rest of forever, but at least they’re not still sleeping in his bed, not making eye contact with him, and only speaking to him in single syllables.

Plus. It’s Benny for fuck’s sake. Benny doesn’t get mad. Except apparently he does.

Dean deserves it. Of course he does, that’s just how it goes. He just… wishes he knew what to do. Or that Benny would give up and leave. Something. This weird limbo of silence is freaking Dean out.

In the meantime Sam’s getting together the ingredients for the cure. He brings up the idea of going back to Purgatory and finding Benny’s maker to get some blood, but he discards it before Dean can argue. Apparently since Benny’s maker is already dead, even if they could get the blood it wouldn’t have the same effect.

Not that Benny’s blood will fix that particular snag.

Sam makes Dean talk to Benny about getting his blood.

“If he’s important enough to drag him out of Purgatory again, he’s important enough to talk to,” Sam says dismissively when Dean starts arguing. “Just suck it up, Dean.”

Benny agrees to it, of course. Because apparently even when he’s mad he’s still better than any other person Dean’s ever met. Why he’s even stuck around this long….

So the three of them gather in the kitchen where Sam is putting together the cure. It looks just as god awful as last time. Smells like it too. Distantly Dean wonders if it smells different if you’re not all vampired up. Once Benny’s blood is added, Sam holds it out for Dean.

“Bon appetite.”

“Fuck you,” Dean grumbles and downs it in one gulp.

There’s a moment, Dean remembers, where it seems like it didn’t work. He holds his breath, praying, hoping that it works, despite all the odds.

Sam’s got a trashcan waiting. There’s a beat where Dean thinks he’s waited long enough, it didn’t work, and he just swallowed the most disgusting concoction on Earth for nothing, before he lurches for the trashcan and vomits.

Honestly, is there anything more miserable than throwing up? Dean can’t think of anything. There are tears welling in the corners of his eyes, and his throat is raw and burning. And it just keeps coming. It didn’t last this long last time, he’s sure of it. Something’s tight in his chest, and his arms and legs are seizing. The constant headache he’s had for days spikes, and now he’s just upchucking stomach acid.

“Hey, hey, whoa, Dean, breathe.”

Someone’s talking, but Dean has no idea who. At some point he dropped to the floor, and he has no idea where the trashcan is. He hopes he’s at least sort of aiming right.

He’s not sure when it happened, but he wakes up in his bed. His skin feels clammy, he’s got a headache straight from Hell, his mouth is dry and tastes fucking awful, and he could sleep for a thousand years and be completely happy.

“You actually awake this time or’re you just bein’ fuckin’ terrifyin’ again?”

Dean blinks rapidly, turning his head slowly to see Benny sitting by the bed, looking at him warily.

“‘M awake…” Dean manages. “Trashcan?”

Benny holds out a bucket. “Go crazy.”

It doesn’t take as long this time. Dean wipes at his mouth and hands the bucket back to Benny, who takes it and hands him a glass of water. Dean drinks the entire thing in one go.

“I’d ask how you’re feelin’, but I think I know the answer to that.”

Dean grunts, dropping back down on the pillow.

“Guessin’ it didn’t work.”

Dean pauses, listening. There’s a steady thudding; one close, one a little farther.

“No.”

Benny stays quiet for a few moments. Though, to be honest, it’s surprising that Benny’s said as much as he has. And it’s him sitting here instead of Sam. Whatever. Dean doesn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

“I need to apologize.”

Dean closes his eyes. Maybe if he pretends that he’s fallen back asleep they won’t have to have this conversation.

“I overreacted. It’s just… I had fangs for so long… Y’know, I remember back when I was first turned I kept thinkin’… Well, at first I kept thinkin’ it was a nightmare. Hadn’t known monsters existed. Then I kept thinkin’ that somehow, somewhere, someone had to be able to help. I didn’t have to stay like that forever.”

There’s a heavy sigh.

“A couple years into it, I finally gave up. Resigned myself to the fact… the idea that fangs and blood were my entire future. Nothin’ could help. It could never change. And then you show up again in Purgatory, and we get outta there and suddenly… I’m human again. Y’know, I’d forgotten what food tasted like? Or what a couple real hours of sleep could do? Or how warm the sun on your skin feels…. It came at a price, and I still don’t know if it was worth it. But then you tell me that if fate had actually been on my side I coulda… I coulda never lost all those things. I coulda just lived a normal life. Lived and died like everyone else.”

Dean’s opened his eyes by now, watching Benny fiddle with his thumbs like they’re the most fascinating thing. Benny looks up and meets his gaze.

“It kinda messed me up. And I shouldn’ta let it.”

Dean swallows thickly. “I shoulda told you.”

Benny smiles crookedly. “Back to normal then?”

Dean winces. “What’s normal?”

Benny chuckles. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”


	11. The Full Christmas Experience

The first time he came back, Benny hadn’t gotten to enjoy your classic “White Christmas”. For one, he’d been in the Deep South--Louisiana, Alabama, the likes--and there wasn’t any snow. For another, even if he’d been farther north, he’d been running at the time. Christmas happened right after the whole thing with Marvin or whatever the crazy guy’s name was--the situation where he’d had to kill that hunter in front of his fucking _granddaughter_ \--so the holidays hadn’t really been a high priority for him.

Even before he’d been killed the first time, Christmas and New Year’s hadn’t been on his radar for a long time. When he’d still been running as a “vampirate” (as Dean liked to put it--actually, he was insistent on that terminology) there were more important things like the pack and, well, blood. Sure, after he found Andrea and they settled down he could’ve celebrated, but Andrea had been Jewish so Hanukkah had been their winter holiday. And even then, it was just a quiet thing, lighting the menorah and exchanging small gifts.

So when Dean decides to hop back into Purgatory and drag Benny out for a second time and Christmas rolls along soon after, Benny quickly realizes he’s in for an experience unlike one he’s had in almost a century.

Dean, apparently, is a big advocate of Christmas. Though, Sam does seem a little bemused, so it could be just because Benny’s back that Dean’s as excited as he is. And, to be perfectly honest, Dean has mentioned several times looking forward to a midnight kiss on New Year’s Eve (but only when he’s high on adrenaline and endorphins, of course). Whatever the reason, it throws Benny completely for a loop, and suddenly he realizes he needs to get presents, not only for Dean, but for Sam as well, and does he have to get something for the angel? (Do angels celebrate Christmas? What do you even give an angel for a present? Especially one who hates you? Not that Benny has really seen Castiel the entire time he’s been back. He thinks maybe he caught a glimpse of that tan trenchcoat near Sam’s bedroom one night, but he’s not convinced it wasn’t his half-asleep brain playing tricks on him.)

Dean is decorating the bunker from top to bottom (which, by the way, is a whole ton of decorating--it takes them a full three days, all three of them working on it without stop except for food and sleep--and the sleep part takes some negotiating), buying the biggest Christmas tree Benny has ever seen that they have to go out to a tree farm for and chop it down, playing Christmas music through the bunker’s speaker system at all hours, and forcing them to sit down and watch at least one Christmas movie every night. Honestly, it’s exhausting. And Dean doesn’t seem to be slowing down in the least. All Benny can say is, at least it seems to be taking Dean’s mind off the whole “vampire bit of Benny’s soul getting stuck” thing.

Dean’s also checking the weather report obsessively. When Benny finally asks what the big deal is, Dean’s eyes go wide as dinner plates.

“What’s the point if it’s not a White Christmas?” he says, tone incredulous and, frankly, a little squeaky. “It’s gotta at least be white, but if it’s snowing on Christmas, that’s even better!”

“Have we ever even had a White Christmas before?” Sam asks as he gathers up the dishes from dinner. Dean looks offended.

“Yeah! We had a couple when we were kids!”

“Ah, yes, because Christmas when we were kids was always so much fun,” Sam says, but he’s smiling and shaking his head so he must not be too upset? Benny can’t really tell. He still hasn’t been able to get a good read on the younger Winchester. Dean’s still scowling, though.

“Anyway! If we get enough snow--and the weather report says we should, at least by New Year’s--we should find a good hill to go sledding on.”

“Isn’t sleddin’ more of a children’s activity?” Benny asks, confused. “Do you even have a toboggan lyin’ around here somewhere?”

“It is more for kids, yeah,” Sam agrees with a wink. “But that’s never stopped Dean.”

“I’m going to ignore you,” Dean grumbles. Sam chuckles, walking to the kitchen, dishes in hand.

“Now, that’s not keeping in the Christmas spirit, Dean! Don’t be a Grinch!”

Benny blinks at the unfamiliar word. “What’s a… a ‘Grinch’?”

Dean’s jaw goes slack with shock as he stares at Benny. Benny shifts a little, uncomfortable at the stare.

“Sam!” Dean bellows suddenly, making Benny jump. “When was _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ written?”

“Uh… Late 50s? I don’t know!” Sam yells back from the kitchen. Benny feels a little wave of relief.

“There, so I missed it. I was drinkin’ people at the time, or I was livin’ with Andrea.”

Dean shakes his head, looking almost heartbroken. “You don’t even know what Star Wars is, do you? Or Star Trek? Lord of the Rings?”

“...No.”

“We’re gonna fix that, I promise you. Sam!” Dean barks again. “We’re watching ‘How The Grinch Stole Christmas’ tonight! The old one first, then we can watch the Jim Carrey one!”

Dean’s extremely offended that night when Benny points out that _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ is essentially the children’s version of _The Christmas Carol_. In response, Dean declares tomorrow night’s movie will be _The Muppet Christmas Carol_. Whatever a “muppet” is.

Christmas, meanwhile, crawls closer. They have a couple of hunts they go on in the midst of all the preparations, but they’re all simple and easy things. A werewolf here, a salt and burn there. The Wednesday before Christmas (“Two more days!” Dean reminds them first thing in the morning), when they’re at home with nothing much to do, Benny manages to convince Dean to let him drive the Impala so he can go into town and get the necessary gifts. It takes him a while, almost the whole day, to find things he’s satisfied with. Dean’s easy at first, but then Benny realizes he should probably have something to give him that he could open in front of his little brother without dying of embarrassment. Dean had already assured Benny that Castiel would be playing no part in the Christmas celebrations (at which Sam looked very annoyed) so really Benny only had to get gifts for Sam and Dean, but it’s been decades since Benny’s given anyone a gift so it proves to be more difficult than he anticipated. Finally, he’s satisfied and drives back to the bunker.

On the drive home it starts to snow. It takes Benny a moment to figure out what’s going on--he honestly can’t remember the last time he saw snow in real life--but then he finds himself grinning. They’ll actually be having a White Christmas, just like the weatherman had predicted and Dean had hoped for. It’s quite beautiful, really. Benny’s never been a fan of the cold, being a good old Louisiana boy and all (though it’s been decades since he’s been able to even feel the cold), but the light dusting of white everywhere is pretty. And it really does seem to make all the preparations and music and movies and shopping more worth it. He’s still not used to the soreness that comes from being human and on your feet all day.

Dean’s waiting outside, bundled up and shivering, when Benny gets back to the bunker. He gives the car a quick once over, making sure she’s all right, before giving Benny a kiss and helping him carry the bags of gifts inside. He’s practically bouncing off the walls with glee about the snow, and for the first time the whole season Benny actually full heartedly agrees with him instead of just being confused.

Overnight the snow turns into a freak snow storm. They wake up the next morning (“It’s Christmas Eve!” Dean announces merrily) to find a good three and a half feet of snow outside. The stairwell up to the front door is completely full of snow. Dean goes on for about a half an hour about how it’s a good thing they pulled the Impala into the garage last night because his poor baby would rust and so on and so on. Benny anticipated Dean’s mood turning sour when they first opened the door to a wall of white. This meant they couldn’t leave the bunker, they couldn’t go sledding, they couldn’t make snowmen or snow angels… They really wouldn’t be able to even enjoy the snow until it melted a couple feet. But Dean isn’t about to let something like a measly three and a half feet of snow ruin his Christmas spirit. Instead, he declares they’ll be drinking hot chocolate and watching the rest of the Christmas movies on his list all day. And they can take an hour or two break for gift wrapping.

Christmas itself is wonderful. It’s quiet, it’s cozy, and everyone’s happy with their presents. Sam likes the book Benny found at a pawn shop, and Dean’s amusingly excited about the new Taylor Swift album. (Dean also seems particularly pleased with the gifts Benny gives him later in the privacy of their room.) Dean’s energy seems to simmer down during the day, too, for which both Sam and Benny are grateful for. They build a fire and enjoy a nice ham dinner (courtesy of Dean) and again spend the day locked away in the bunker. Sam and Dean do make a few phone calls to friends to wish them a Merry Christmas (a Jody, a Charlie, a Mrs. Tran, and a couple others), but otherwise it‘s just the three of them, quiet and cozy and warm.

Slowly the snow starts to melt. Dean starts to get excited again about sledding and snowmen. After an entire morning spent out in the snow, they all venture back indoors for some hot chocolate. Dean gets twitchy again about spending time in the snow fairly quickly, though, so he suggests they go for a walk. The snow’s still at least a foot high, even after three men went tromping through it, but they pull on thick winter boots and wrap up in an abundance of scarves and coats and mittens and hats.

There’s not another living soul in sight, except a cardinal or two. It’s quiet and peaceful, the snow seeming to swallow up any excess sound. Dean even reaches out and grabs Benny’s hand, trying to interlock their fingers before getting too frustrated with the mittens. They walk in silence for a long while, holding hands and stepping carefully, until Dean comes to a stop a ways away from the bunker. Benny turns to face him with a frown.

Dean’s looking off into the distance, seeming younger than Benny has ever known him. Dean always carried too heavy burdens, always took on too much responsibility. But something about the holidays, something about this peaceful walk in the snow, seems like it’s lifted those burdens, that responsibility. Benny finds himself wishing this could always be the way it is for Dean. He deserves something better.

After a few moments, Dean turns his gaze on Benny, a small smile on his lips.

“Your nose is red,” he comments softly. Benny chuckles.

“So is yours, Rudolph.”

Dean grins, falling quiet again. Another few moments before: “I’m glad you’re here, Benny.”

“Glad you convinced me,” Benny agrees. Dean rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Just wish it’d worked out like it should’ve.”

“Hey,” Benny says quickly, reaching out to place his hand under Dean’s chin, forcing him to meet Benny’s eyes. “We’ll figure it out.”

Dean’s lips curl into a little crooked smile, and Benny can tell he’s not convinced. But Dean leans in anyway, placing a soft kiss on Benny’s lips. Benny immediately deepens the kiss, trying with all his might to translate reassurance and comfort into the touch. He doesn’t know if it works, but Dean follows suit, their arms wrapping around each other in a close embrace. It’s bitter cold--something Benny’s still not used to and not sure he’ll ever be--but it seems a little warmer just now as they share the moment in the snow.


	12. A Lesson in Cuddling Etiquette

Sam doesn’t expect much from the gift exchange. It isn’t about the presents, not really. He wasn’t sure what to get the angel he happened to cuddle with regularly and make out with on occasion, and Cas had made it clear that he had no idea what to get Sam.

It’s more about what the exchange would mean--that this is real, that they count as boyfriends, that he’s moved on, that Cas has moved on from Dean. It needs to mean everything.

They do it in Sam’s room, tucked away from the Christmas explosion that’s overtaken the bunker. They do it while Dean and Benny are out. It’s less awkward--and less obvious--that way. It feels safer, more familiar.

It’s easier to open Cas’ present sitting side-by-side on the bed instead of facing him. That way Sam doesn’t have to tone down his giddiness or hide his wariness about what’s inside the, frankly ancient-looking, box

It takes a moment to process what he finds. The book’s faded with immense age. When he opens it he lets out a rather embarrassing gasp.

“Cas, is this _Inventio Fortunata_? The actual fucking _Inventio Fortunata_?”

“You said you wanted to cross-reference Mercator’s world map with the first-hand account. I thought it would be . . . an appropriate gift.”

Sam can’t help the abrupt laugh that’s probably more like a sob any more than he can help how he pounces on Cas.

“I take it you’re pleased?” Cas sounds muffled and confused from where he’s wedged against Sam’s chest.

“You got me the actual fucking _Inventio Fortunata_. This book hasn’t _existed_ in centuries! You’re . . . Jesus, you’re amazing.”

He pulls back suddenly, blinking fast to get rid of any tears that may or may not have welled in his eyes. “God, my present will never live up.”

Cas smiles and his face looks almost completely human--soft and touched. He retrieves the package from where it fell to the floor in the tussle.

“I don’t really need physical possessions, Sam. We’re doing to enhance our emotional bond, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then I’m sure it’ll be more than adequate.”

_Adequate._ Sam chews the inside of his cheek to keep from revealing how cute he finds Cas’ stone-cold angel logic that somehow managed to survive godliness, insanity, monstrousness, and humanity.

Cas takes forever to finishing unwrapping. He keeps the paper intact and sticks all the tape to the inside. When he’s done he just stares.

“Doesn’t Dean have this toaster?”

“Yeah, Cas, but that’s just the box,” Sam laughs. “I didn’t get you a toaster.”

“Oh. Do you always put presents in deceptive boxes? Should I have boxed the manuscript-”

“No--no. It’s just about convenience.”

“Oh.” Cas turns it over. If Sam didn’t know better, he’d guess that Cas was reading the toaster specs on the bottom.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?”

Cas looks at him, all big-eyed surprise. “Oh, of course.”

When he’s finally pried it open, he just looks adorably confused. He pulls out the fuzzy socks and fleece pajamas, laying them delicately on the bed. He holds up the tan bathrobe, looking like it might self-animate at any moment.

“Sam, I don’t get cold.”

“I know.” Sam feels a little sheepish. “It’s sort of a present for me too. It’s so you don’t have to wear the suit and trenchcoat in the bunker all the time.”

Cas looks positively stricken. “I didn’t know you disliked them that much.”

“No, Cas, it’s not that-”

“I could have worn something else if you preferred-”

“Cas! I just wanted to cuddle in . . . something a little more comfortable.”

“My vessel chose this coat specifically for its comfort.”

Sam can’t help rolling his eyes. “Not your comfort, Cas, mine. You wore your shoes _in my bed_ the other day.”

“Oh.” Cas’ hand runs absently over the bathrobe’s collar. Then his face turns positively cheeky. “You’d prefer I wear this when in your bed?”

“Well, yeah. Unless, you know, you ever want to wear . . . less.” Sam felt the blush that confession brought on go all the way down his chest.

Cas stands and Sam sucks in a breath.

Of course he’s coming on too strong. Of fucking course he is.

“Not that you have to--you can wear what you want. I didn’t mean to . ..”

Cas turns back, a touch of exasperation on his face. “I’m not offended that you like my body, Sam. I’m going to change in the bathroom--give you the full effect. That’s okay, right?”

“Oh,” Sam takes a deep breath. Of course that’s what Cas is concerned about. Manners. “Yeah, yeah, Cas, sure.”

Cas smiles. Then he leaves.

By the time Cas comes back, Sam’s hands are clammy, his breathing’s irregular, his whole body’s tensed against the urge to pace. He doesn’t know how Cas is going to respond to the last part of the present. If he was going to freak out like this, maybe he should’ve thought twice about pushing intimacy on Cas.

Not that Cas had no experience. Sam knows Cas slept in Dean’s room, though he doesn’t want to think too hard about exactly what that entails. But, just because Dean and Cas were that way doesn’t mean Cas wants that from Sam, doesn’t mean he wants that with Sam. All bets are off now that Cas is an angel again. “I want you”s be damned.

Besides, Sam’s not like Dean. He’s never had that “profound bond” thing. Not with Cas. Not with anyone since he was a twenty-something playing house with Jess.

Cas taps on the door when he comes back and Sam lurches up to let him in.

He looks positively shy, standing leaned up against the doorway to Sam’s bedroom covered in fleece like a fucking stuffed animal. He’s holding the neck of the bathrobe closed like he’s bashful.

“They’re very . . . soft.”

“Good?” Sam hedges.

Cas nods slowly. He looks Sam right in the eye, mock innocence down to perfection. “Sam, I think the clerk forgot a piece of this ensemble.”

He lets go of the robe and it falls open, revealing his collarbone, a dusting of dark hair across his chest, one pink nipple, and the hard cut of one hip. Sam swallows, blush deepening.

“No, um, that was my idea. I have the shirt if, you know, you want it.”

“Isn’t customary for you mere mortals to allow your guests shirts, even when cuddling?”

Sam bites his lip, touching the edge of the robe’s lapel softly. “Customary, sure. But not strictly necessary.”

“Do you want me to go without it, Sam?” Cas reaches up, cradling the back of Sam’s head in his hand.

Sam closes his eyes. “I think I’d like that.”

Cas steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “I have a condition.”

Sam can’t help how he tenses, conditioned to feel like every discussion is the end of something. Conditioned to feel like this is it. The “we’re just cuddle buddies,” the “you’re still an abomination,” the “let’s just keep this to kissing, Sam,” the “I liked your brother better just like everyone does” breaking point.

He doesn’t meet Cas’ eyes until it’s been quiet for too long. When he does make eye contact, though, Cas is smiling all soft and gentle. He runs his hand down Sam’s neck and his chest down to his hip, toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Only if you go without yours too.”

Sam grins, relieved. “I think I can manage that.”


	13. The Alpha Vampire

The Alpha’s house.

Benny has goosebumps crawling up all over everywhere.

Dean had actually come up with the idea to talk to the Alpha. Then he’d explained the existence of Alphas, though Benny’s pretty sure he left some of the story out.

Now they’re being ushered into the Alpha’s house by some really irritated vamps. Apparently Sam and Dean had just been here about a month ago, to get blood from the Alpha so Dean could come back to Purgatory, and… Yeah, at some point Benny’s gonna sit Dean down and ask him to clarify like eighty percent of his life.

The irritated lackeys open a pair of double doors for them, and there, at the head of a grand dining table, is the Alpha. He’s dark and brooding, and there’s something about him that just exudes ancient and powerful.

The goosebumps get about ten times worse.

The Alpha doesn’t even look up from where he’s writing in a large, old book.

“Winchesters. Back so soon.”

“We need your help,” Dean says through gritted teeth. The Alpha looks up, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Actually, he seems to have one of those faces that always looks thoroughly unimpressed. Maybe it’s the age.

“I’m starting to think the only reason you haven’t tried to kill me lately is so I can help you. Hate to break it to you, boys, but I’m not your show dog.”

“It’s important,” Dean says. The Alpha scoffs.

“Oh, yes, it’s always important.” He stands and lurks closer. Benny glances to Sam and Dean, but they’re both stubbornly holding their ground. Benny rolls his shoulders back and does the same.

But, Jesus, the Alpha fucking Vampire is two feet away and drawing closer.

Slowly, as he gets closer, the Alpha’s exasperation and irritation melts away to a frown, eyebrows drawn together in a pinch.

“What happened?” he asks, eyes fixed on Dean. Dean’s Adam’s apple bobs.

“Something went wrong getting back from Purgatory.”

The Alpha reaches out, quick as a flash, and grabs Dean’s chin, pulling him in close and inspecting.

“Something went severely wrong, yes, that is obvious. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

There’s a muscle in Dean’s jaw that’s ticking, and Benny knows it’s taking everything Dean has not to pull away.

“Can you fix it?” he asks instead. The Alpha studies him a moment longer and then lets go with a growl, stepping back. Dean stumbles, and it takes a second for him to regain his footing. He rubs at his jaw like he can get rid of the feel of the Alpha’s fingers on his skin.

“What have you tried?”

“We tried the vampire cure,” Sam replies.

“Whose blood did you use?”

“Benny’s. Figured Benny’s maker’s blood wouldn’t work since he’s already dead.”

“And you wouldn’t dare bring him back,” the Alpha says with a nod. “How long were you out?” He directs the question to Dean, but Sam answers.

“Almost three days.”

“Wasn’t pleasant, was it? Have you tried anything else?”

“No,” Sam says. “I can’t find anything in the lore.”

“That would be because this has never happened before,” the Alpha explains curtly.

“So do you know how to fix it or not?” Dean asks tersely. The Alpha stares at him, a stone-cold, steely stare.

“No,” he says finally. “I do not.”

Dean huffs and rubs at his eyes. “Awesome.”

It’s quiet for a while. Then Sam takes over again.

“Thanks for your time anyway, then.” He places a hand on Dean’s shoulder to lead him back out. Benny moves to follow, more than ready to get out of here. The goosebumps haven’t stopped for even a second.

“Benny.”

Benny freezes.

How in the fuck does the Alpha know his name?

Slowly, he turns to face the Alpha, who’s looking at him with a sort of… sadness, almost.

“It’s a shame you’ve left our family. Maybe fate will work in our favor, and you’ll return to us one day.”

Benny blinks at him. “I’d rather not,” he says hoarsely. The Alpha’s lips quirk up in a crooked smile.

“I know. But I will hope all the same.”


	14. A Story from the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record... I'm not at all anti-DeanCas. Just for the record.

It’s morning. Finally. Dean’s so done with this not being able to sleep thing. It’s getting really old and amazingly tedious. Benny shifts in his sleep, pulling Dean closer. Dean lets him.

There’s shuffling in the kitchen, and the smell of cinnamon. Sam must be making breakfast. Maybe french toast. Either way, Sam cooking--that’s dangerous. Dean should do something about that.

Benny’s grip gets tighter.

Sighing, Dean shakes Benny’s shoulder gently. The giant puppy grumbles, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean twitches as Benny’s beard tickles his shoulder.

“Benny, Sam could be burning down the place any moment now.”

“Mmblrgfflprt,” Benny replies. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Dude, I’m serious.” Dean wriggles a bit, pushing at Benny’s arms. Benny lets out a long-suffering sigh and rolls over, pulling the blankets up over his head.

“You’re enjoying the fact you can sleep now way too much, dude,” Dean says, giving the Benny-shaped lump a light smack. “C’mon, it’s like eight, time to be awake.”

A meaty hand makes it’s way out of the blankets to give Dean the finger. But the blankets are slowly pulled down all the same to reveal a bleary-eyed and severely grumpy looking ex-vampire. Dean smirks at him.

“You look adorable.”

Benny raises an eyebrow at him. “Adorable?”

Dean shrugs. “Sure.”

Benny grumbles and slowly but surely sits up. He frowns at Dean as he blinks away the sleep.

“The Alpha has quite the grip,” he says quietly. Dean frowns.

“What?”

Benny reaches out, brushing his fingertips across Dean’s chin. “You bruised.”

Dean pulls back from the affection touch. “Okay, dude, I’ll be fine.”

They make their way to the kitchen, Benny dragging his feet the entire way. Dean’s pretty sure he’s actually more amused than annoyed because who would’ve guessed this cutthroat bear of an ex-vampire would be so anti-mornings.

...Okay, well, if he thinks about it, Dean could’ve guessed that easily.

Dean’s too distracted by Benny to notice the sound of voices coming from the kitchen until they’re at the doorway. In one rush of sensation, he registers not only the voices, but whose they are, and the fact that both people are standing at the counter, smiling and chatting easily.

The chatting stops as Dean comes to a sudden halt. Dean’s sure Sam looks extremely guilty, and Benny just looks confused, but Dean’s honed in on the other individual in the room.

After a moment of silence, Castiel shuffles awkwardly, setting his mug of coffee down on the counter. He brushes off his coat and turns to Sam.

“I should go.”

“What is he even doing here?” Dean asks with a growl. Sam sighs.

“I thought he might have some ideas on how to fix your situation.”

“Well? Do you?”

Castiel turns his attention back on Dean. “According to Sam, nothing that you haven’t already thought of. My only suggestion is to go back to Purgatory and find the maker.”

“The Alpha said that wouldn’t work,” Dean responds, low and dangerous.

“That is all I have, Dean. You could just learn to live with it.”

“And, what, drink donated blood for the rest of my life? No thank you.”

Castiel shrugs, an awkward, aborted movement that Dean hates with every fiber of his being. “I’m sorry. I see no other viable choice. I suppose I could try smiting the vampire soul out of you.”

There’s something positively snarky about the way the angel says that. Dean bristles.

“I’ll pass.”

“Then I cannot help,” Castiel says. He turns back to Sam. “Good to see you, Sam.”

“You too, Cas,” Sam says quietly, like he doesn’t want Dean to hear. And then the angel’s gone.

Dean turns a thousand watt glare on Sam. “Seriously. You had to ask him?”

Sam’s jaw tightens. “We don’t exactly have another angel to turn to.”

“Why do we need an angel at all?!”

“I’m exploring all our options, Dean!” Sam barks back. “I wasn’t trying to piss you off intentionally! If you hadn’t shown up for just another five minutes you wouldn’t have even known he was here so I didn’t see any harm in asking if he had any ideas!”

“Well, he didn’t, so that was a waste of your time,” Dean snarls, turning on his heel and storming away. Benny hurries after him.

“Whoa, Dean, slow down,” he says, grabbing Dean by the elbow. “I missed somethin’ important here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, the last time I saw Castiel you were all ‘where’s the angel’,” Benny says, frowning at Dean expectantly. Dean scowls.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles, and he storms back to the bedroom. Benny follows close behind.

“Did he do somethin’?” he asks because of course he’s not going to let it drop. “I know it’s been a few years, and I kept my mouth shut about him not bein’ around, but until Sam mentioned him a few weeks ago, I actually thought he was still stuck in Purgatory. Or that the Leviathan had finally caught up to him.”

“We were together, okay?” Dean says, whirling around. God, he so doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to open that box that’s shoved away, deep in a dark corner where no one can find it. Benny’s only reaction is to raise his eyebrows just slightly. Dean sighs, sitting down with a huff on the foot of the bed.

“A few years ago, we… Cas and I were together. For almost two years, actually. But it… it didn’t end well.”

“I gathered that.”

Dean looks up to give Benny another glare, but Benny’s moving to sit down next to him, and he looks sympathetic, maybe. Encouraging. It’s irritating, but...

“He was human for a while. The entire time we were together, actually. But when he got his grace back he just… flitted off back to Heaven. And that was it.”

“He just abandoned you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Abandoned him. Dean had never even thought of it that way. But, yeah, that’s how it’d gone down. And Dean had let him because it’s what Cas wanted. Heaven versus Dean fucking Winchester. No contest there.

It’s quiet for a few moments. The box is open so Dean just mulls around in it for a bit. But then Benny knocks into his side with his shoulder.

“So that probably explains why you had the balls to kiss me back in Purgatory, huh?”

Dean smacks him.


	15. Dean Gets Desperate

The best part about being human again is the food. Benny may have put on a few pounds since coming back topside. He’s taken every advantage to eat and to cook, and he just wishes Dean could enjoy the food with him. Benny’s pretty sure he hasn’t actually seen Dean eat anything since Christmas dinner.

Today Benny’s made fried chicken. He’s rather pleased with himself, actually. It’s been forever since he’s tried his hand at fried chicken, and he’s still got it. It’s crispy to perfection, a nice crunch to it, and greasy as hell. Benny’s already gone through three napkins. But the smell. The smell is the best part. It smells like grease and clogged arteries and a heart attack at forty, and it smells like the best goddamn thing on Earth. And Benny’s taking his dear sweet time enjoying--

Benny lets out a roar as something clamps down hard on the back of his shoulder. It’s gone almost as suddenly as it arrived, and Benny whirls around, fried chicken completely forgotten, to see Dean backing up, wild-eyed and guilty. Benny stares as Dean wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“The fuck was that?”

Dean mumbles something that Benny can’t quite make out.

“What?”

“‘M hungry.”

Benny blinks. “You don’t have the teeth, Dean, not to mention the Alpha said blood wouldn’t actually satisfy you. What’d you think was gonna happen?”

Dean buries his face in his hands and moans. “I don’t know! I’m fucking hungry, and you just smell so fucking good, and I don’t know what… I don’t know what to do anymore!”

“I’m not sure whether I’m flattered or offended that you think I smell good ‘nough to give it a go at eatin’ me.”

Dean lets his hands drop and looks at Benny, miserable as a drowned cat. Benny sighs. He gets it, he does. Maybe not exactly, considering Dean can’t really do much to relieve the pain, but he understands.

“Wait right here,” Benny says. “I’ll be back in thirty seconds.”

Dean frowns at him, but Benny doesn’t stay to explain. Instead he jogs back to the kitchen and grabs a cutting knife before jogging back to where Dean’s still standing like an obedient little dog. Benny smiles fondly before running the knife in a small line across the skin of his forearm.

Dean actually gulps. His pupils dilate, and his face goes pale, and he zeroes in on the cut where a line of blood steadily gathers.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice strangled. Benny presents his arm in an offering.

“Go ahead.”

“You’ve gotta be joking.”

“I trust you.”

Dean blinks up at him, the violent hunger etched in his features softening for just a moment. Then he rolls his shoulders back, steeling himself up, before latching onto Benny’s arm fiercely. Benny hisses as Dean’s blunt teeth dig into his skin. His fingers wrap around Benny’s arm, clinging on as if the harder he holds the more in control he is. Which, Benny knows from experience, is an utter lie.

It’s only about ten seconds before Dean pulls off with a loud gasp, stumbling backwards and falling to the floor hard on his ass. Benny curses and drops to his knees (stupid--they’re feeling his age these days, that was fucking painful).

“You okay? Dean?”

There’s a burst of noise as Dean lets out a great sob, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face. Benny sighs and moves to sit down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Dean recoils.

“Your fucking arm,” he says through the sobs. Benny pulls the offending arm away.

“Didn’t work, huh?”

“Fucking disgusting,” Dean mumbles, sounding pissed as all hell. Benny can’t help but snicker. Dean looks up at him, looking utterly wretched.

“‘S not funny.”

“No, I know, it’s just I don’t think you’ve ever called me disgustin’ before,” Benny explains, still chuckling. Dean glares.

“Shut up.”

Benny manages to sober himself up a bit and pulls Dean in comfortingly. “I’m sorry, Dean. We’ll figure this out. Swear to god.”

For once, Dean doesn’t argue.


	16. Sam Doesn't Want to Know

Sam’s bending to get an apple from the fridge crisper when Benny comes in. He straightens with a little nod in Benny’s direction.

“Hi, Benny.”

“Hey, Sam.”

Benny goes straight past him, rummages in the silverware drawer for a moment, and turns right back around. Holding a kitchen knife.

It’s not really a conscious decision to follow Benny out of the kitchen, but Sam’s confused. What could Benny need to cut that wouldn’t cut with scissors?

Sam takes an automatic bite out of his apple as Benny turns the corner into the main room. It nearly falls out of his mouth when Benny cuts across his own arm with the knife just as Sam peeks into the room.

Dean sounds--and looks--terrified, but when Benny says, “I trust you,” he surges forward. At the first wet, thick suck Sam balks.

He spins so quickly he nearly loses his balance completely. Maybe this is a new attempt to fix Dean, maybe it’s a vampiric right of passage, maybe it’s a sex thing. Regardless, Sam _really_ doesn’t want to know.


	17. An Unexpected Development

Charlie really hates driving all day. Sure, she’s got an iPod full of great music, but she’s also got a small car. Which is totally cute and great for driving around town in, but it gets kinda uncomfortable after a couple hours on the road. Plus, she’s usually taking these long drives by herself. Maybe one day she’ll get a bigger car like the Impala. Plenty of room for holy water and salt rounds and stuff. But she won’t get a big muscle car. Too much gas. And Lebanon’s too far away for Dean to fix it up whenever she’d need. Maybe a pickup truck. ...Nah.

The Impala isn’t parked outside when she pulls up, but it could be in the garage if they haven’t gone out for a hunt in a while. Which is completely possible. Charlie’s not even sure this thing she’s after actually is a hunt. But it’s close to Lebanon, and it’s been way too long since she’s seen the Winchesters.

She digs the key they gave her years ago out of her pocket and unlocks the front door. There’s a quiet moment before a sudden, delighted yell of, “Charlie!” And then there’s a gigantic moose bounding up the stairs towards her.

Charlie laughs, bracing herself for impact. After her feet touch the ground again she finally gets a look at the grin on Sam’s face.

“What’re you doing in town?”

“There might be a wendigo in Salina,” she says, pulling off the bag on her shoulder. “Thought I’d stop by and see you guys.”

“A wendigo?”

There’s Dean, down on the main floor, and is that incense on the table in front of him? And there’s a big burly dude holding a plate full of salad as he saunters out of the kitchen. That’s gotta be Benny. ...Apparently Dean likes bears.

Dean stands up, moving to greet Charlie, when his eyes go insanely wide, and he stops dead in his tracks. He might’ve even gone pale. It’s kinda impressive, actually. Then he turns right back around, sits down, and shoves his face in the incense.

Eyebrows high, Charlie skips down the steps and walks closer. He positively glares at her.

“What?!” She’s pretty sure she’s offended. Okay, no, she’s just offended. So she hasn’t showered, and she’s been stuck in a car all day, but Sam didn’t seem to have a problem with it. She doesn’t smell _that_ bad.

Dean’s mouth twists, and he looks a little apologetic. “You’re on your period, aren’t you?”

Charlie blinks at him. “What?”

“Oh my god,” Sam mutters, coming up behind her with her bag. Benny looks amused. Dean, meanwhile, buries his face in his hands, the tips of his ears going bright pink.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles through his fingers.

“Um…” Sam says. “We didn’t tell you everything that happened with getting Benny back.”

Charlie frowns at him. “Apparently. What happened?”

“The vampire bit of my soul got stuck in Dean,” Benny says, sticking a hand out toward her. “Pleased to meet you.”

Oh wow, Cajun accent, hot damn. Charlie takes his hand, shaking it. Firm grip, good Southern manners. If she were straight… Maybe he’s got a relative.

“Uh. You too.” Charlie looks back at Dean who’s still looking rather miserable. “So how does that even work?”

“It doesn’t, really,” Dean mutters.

“Means he doesn’t get the fangs, but he gets the thirst,” Benny explains with a bit of a smirk. Charlie nods slowly.

“Oh...kay… Oh. Oh!” She looks at Dean again. “Gross!”

“Believe me, I know!”

In any other situation, the distress on Dean’s face would be funny. ...Okay, it’s kinda funny anyway.

“Um. Here, I need to take a shower anyway,” Charlie says, taking her bag back from Sam. “Stuck in the car all day, you know how it is. And I’ve got some strong smelling lotion… Plus, hey, I’ve only got two more days of this.”

Dean groans. Maybe “only” wasn’t the right word.

“Right. Okay. I’ll… go take a shower.”

Sam’s wincing. “Sorry about this.”

“No, it’s cool!” Charlie assures him, backing away to the bathroom. “Was kinda dumb of me anyway. I knew Benny was a vampire, I just didn’t think.”

Oh, god, that would’ve been even more awkward. She barely even knows the dude. Though Dean’s pretty bad. Basically her brother. Okay, you know what, it’d be awkward no matter what, time to take a shower, dumbass.

Charlie practically flees to the bathroom.


	18. Iced Gossip Latte with an Extra Shot of Teasing

Sam and Charlie decide to go get coffee. They ask Dean and Benny if they want to come, purely out of Charlie’s cheerful politeness. Dean groans and breathes incense in like he’s trying to get high. Benny just shrugs and says, “You kids have a good time.”

They drive the twenty minutes over to Smith Center. Sam tried the coffee at Lebanon’s one and only diner once. Never, ever again. It’s worth the rural drive over to Smith Center.

They chit chat in the car--talking lightly about nothing real--and it’s refreshing. But once they settle in at a table for two in the well-lit red brick cafe with their drinks, Charlie looks straight at him.

“So . . .” she hedges. “How are you?”

Sam leans over his cup, taking a sip and burning the whole fucking roof of his mouth, before he answers, “Fine.”

“No, no, no, you are not _just_ fine. No one is ever just fine. I did not ask so you could give me just ‘fine.’” Charlie emphasizes her words with exaggerated air quotes.

“I’m . . . good?” He tries.

“Sam. Dean wants to eat you--and me, which is weird, by the way--and Benny--who, last I heard, you weren’t, you know, super crazy about--lives with you.”

Sam shrugs. “Just another manic Monday?”

“Seriously. This isn’t freaking you out?”

“It’s not that it’s not, it’s just . . .”

“Something else freaking you out more? Is that possible?”

Sam avoids her eyes. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell her--in fact, he’s been dying to tell someone--it’s just that he doesn’t want her to react the way he’s imagined she might.

Charlie leans forward, braced on the table. “Oh now you have to tell me. I know that face, Sam Winchester, and what you’re hiding is _good_ or you wouldn’t be making it.”

“I . . . I’m seeing someone.”

“Finally!”

“Hey, it’s not like it’s been _that_ long.”

Charlie looks incredulous. And probably amused. “How long?”

“I don’t--I haven’t been keeping track. You know what, it’s not important.”

“Wow. That long?”

She’s definitely amused.

Sam tries to laugh it off, but, honestly, it _has_ been that long and it’s kind of embarrassing. “Just a dry spell?”

“Yeah, uh huh, okay. So who’s the lucky girl? Or guy? Or monster?”

Sam takes another sip of his coffee and nearly chokes, burning his tongue for his trouble. “None of the above?”

“Tell me you’re not dating a horseman of the apocalypse, Sam. I mean, War has this hostile, dom-y kind of appeal, but that Pestilence guy--”

“Why does it not surprise me that you don’t think War and Pestilence qualify as ‘monsters?’”

Charlie breaks off a piece of her chocolate croissant, looking intrigued. “So not a monster? And not a boy or a girl? Are they nonbinary?”

“Sort of? Probably?” Sam genuinely has no idea--he’s never thought to ask.

“Are you going to tell me who it is or are we going to sit here and play twenty questions?” Her expression suddenly changes. “Do I know them?”

“Maybe?” Sam really can’t meet her eyes. Any minute she’s going to guess or he’s just going to blurt it out and there’ll be no taking it back.

“I do, don’t I? C’mon, Sam, you know you’re going to tell me.”

Sam takes another big drink and says, “Cas,” before he’s even really swallowed completely.

“You. Are. Shitting. Me. Sam? You’re dating your brother’s angelic ex-boyfri--”

Sam shhs her maybe more violently than he intends, somehow nearly spilling his drink in the process.

“You are! You’re dating Casti-fucking-el. For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Do you have to say that so loud?”

Charlie raises her eyebrows. “I take it no one knows.”

“That’s not strictly . . .” His voice trails off when the look on her face doesn’t change.

“We’re twenty miles from anyone who cares, Sam.”

“Fifteen, technically.”

Charlie laughs and then raises her voice to let the entire cafe know, “Sam’s dating Cas!”

“Okay, god! You made your point.” Sam can’t help the flush that turns his ears hot. No one’s said it out loud yet--not even him or Cas.

“So I’m right. You haven’t told anyone.”

“I was working up to it.”

“Then Dean got fangs?”

Sam sighs. “He doesn’t actually have fangs. Much to his chagrin.”

“Wait, do you mean he actually tried to eat someone?”

“I wasn’t there for the whole thing, but Benny might have let him try. I’m guessing it didn’t go too well.”

Charlie squints. “You were there for _part_ of it? Why? Was that, like, weird? You know bloodsucking has long been used as a metaphor for various sex acts in literat--”

“God, please stop talking.”

“Fine,” Charlie grins like a maniac. She takes a sip of her own coffee. “Oh yum, this is good.”

“Told you it was worth the drive.”

Charlie takes another long, luxurious drink. “Definitely worth the drive. Okay, now back to business. When are you going to tell Dean?”

“You should’ve seen him the other day when he ran into Cas at the bunker. I don’t know if I can tell him. He’s still too . . .”

“Attached?”

“Hurt,” Sam corrects. “At least, that’s what I think. I don’t know, they never talk about it. They don’t even say each other’s names. It’s all ‘your brother’ and ‘the angel.’ And I don’t think they’ve said anything to each other that wasn’t an insult since Cas moved out.”

“Shit. That’s rough.” Charlie’s looking through him with disconcertingly Cas-like intensity. “How are you holding up?”

Sam’s not sure how to respond. He’s never had anyone to talk to about his relationships except Dean. And talking to Dean about relationships never goes like this. In fact, it hardly ever happens.

Charlie seems to get it somehow. She’s surprisingly good at that.

“Okay, I can rephrase. How is it? Things with Cas?”

Sam can’t help smiling, just a little. “Good. Things with Cas are . . . good.”

Charlie grins around the edge of her coffee cup. “Well good. How’s, uh, the sex?”

Sam’s glad he’s not in the middle of a sip when he chokes this time--he would’ve drowned.

She leans over and pats him on the back until he recovers (harder than Sam expects from such a tiny girl). “Sorry, should I have eased into that a little more? I’ve always wondered what it was like with an angel.”

“I couldn’t tell you. We, um, we haven’t gotten there yet.”

Charlie’s eyes widen. “How long have you been together? You sign a purity pact or something crazy?”

“We’re just . . . I’m just letting it happen. This is weird for both of us.”

“So you haven’t brought it up yet.” It’s not a question. She knows. Sam’s not sure how she does that, but he wonders if it has something to do with how many books she’s read that gave intimate glimpses into his and Dean’s life.

“I’m just letting it happen.”

Charlie nods. “Fair enough.”

Sam shifts. They’ve barely fallen quiet for a moment before he’s asking, “What about you? You seeing anyone?”

“Oh hell no, not anymore. Did I tell you about Roseanne?”

Sam grins as Charlie spins a tale of deception, mind-blowing sex, and nerdom. It’s nice to think about life outside of the bunker for a change.


	19. Royals Converse

Charlie’s been at the bunker for a couple days, though Dean hasn’t really seen her that much. He’s glad Sam suggested the incense thing before she arrived. He’d thought it was stupid and girly at first, but he really doesn’t want to deal with the awkwardness and guilt that would come after him losing his mind and attacking Charlie. It was bad enough after that whole evil Charlie versus good Charlie mess a few years back. As it is, he’s started carrying the incense around with him, and he’s maybe started to use Sam’s really flowery shampoo. Anything to block out the smell because even if she’s on the complete opposite end of the bunker, Dean can still smell her.

Honestly, he wishes she’d just gone on her hunt in Salina. But apparently whatever it is isn’t really active--surprise, surprise, with the way things are lately--and Charlie wanted to catch up with Sam. Who apparently didn’t want to leave Dean behind. Or something. Dean doesn’t really know. His head hurts too much.

He’s locked himself in the bedroom, letting the smell of the incense fill the room like a fog. Benny’s in the kitchen baking--another reason to let the smell get so heavy. There’s a small knock on the door, and he frowns. Apparently the incense is working because he can’t tell who it is.

“Yeah?”

The door cracks open, Charlie poking her head through. Dean snatches the incense and shoves his face in it. What the _fuck_ is she doing?

“Hey, relax,” Charlie says with a smile, walking in. “It’s done. We’re good.”

Dean lowers the incense slowly, suspiciously, and takes a large whiff. Either the incense is a lot more impressive that he thought or she’s right.

“Trying to drown yourself or something?” Charlie asks, waving a hand in front of her face. “Mind if I leave the door open?”

Dean hesitates. Charlie rolls her eyes.

“Dude, I’ll pass out.”

“Fine.”

“You know he’s making apple pie?” she says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. Dean grimaces.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Never thought I’d see you wince at the thought of apple pie.”

“Believe me, neither did I.”

Charlie laughs. “So how are you? Other than the whole…”

“Vampire thing?” Dean sighs. “I’m good, I guess. Actually, I’m doing pretty great ignoring the vampire thing.”

Charlie grins, a twinkle in her eyes. “Yeah? You know, I didn’t realize you were into bears. I coulda set you up--”

“Oh my god, why am I friends with you?” Dean groans, burying his face in his hands. Charlie smacks him across the shoulder.

“Hey, you love me,” she says. “Gotta admit, though, the accent is kinda hot.”

Dean looks up with his eyebrows raised. “You’re not gonna go straight for my boyfriend, are you?”

Charlie’s eyes widen. “So he _is_ actually your boyfriend then, huh?”

Dean feels his cheeks turn red and rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um. Yeah, I guess. I mean, we haven’t really talked about it, but…”

“But you sleep in the same bed,” Charlie finishes. “Was he sleeping in his own bed when he first came back or did you guys…?”

“It was sort of unspoken.”

“Yeah?”

Dean nods. Charlie just keeps grinning at him. It’s quiet for a few moments before Charlie reaches out and places her hand on his arm, the look on her face suddenly serious and sincere.

“Hey. I’m glad you’re happy. Especially after… everything. This is good for you.”

Dean’s mouth twists. “Thanks, _Mom_.”

“Hey, sometimes you and your brother need a woman to talk some sense into you,” Charlie argues, but she’s still smiling. “I’m not gonna apologize for my matronly instincts.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Enough about me. Tell me about all your latest sexcapades.”

Charlie laughs. “Well, there was this one… well, she’s a bitch, but her name’s Roseanne.”


	20. The Breaking Point

They really don’t need four people on this hunt. It’s probably just an in and out thing. Charlie thinks it’s a wendigo. Which would be kinda fun. Dean can’t remember the last time they ran into one of those. But since it was like two towns over from the bunker, and they’re all bored as hell? Dean just hopes there isn’t some poor bleeding victim in the wendigo’s hangout. He’s feeling light headed enough as it is.

Charlie’s taken the lead since it’s her hunt. Sam’s following her close behind. Benny keeps looking back at Dean like he’s worried something’s gonna happen. Dean’s not sure if he’s insulted. Actually, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the energy to be insulted.

He takes a moment to catch his breath and re-center himself, propping himself up against a tree. Eyes closed, he tries to stop the world from spinning.

“Dean?”

He opens his eyes to see everyone’s stopped and is looking at him with undisguised concern.

“You okay?” Charlie asks. Dean runs a hand down his face and forces a smile.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

They’re all sharing glances, but Dean has to pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes again because, Jesus fuck, he’s going to hurl or something.

There’s the distant sound of the three of them starting to walk again, and Dean steels himself up, opening his eyes, and takes a step forward.

That’s the last thing he remembers.


	21. Sam Snaps

Benny’s gonna kill him.

No, Dean’s gonna kill himself. Which is exactly the problem.

The wendigo, or whatever it was, was left forgotten the moment Dean hit the ground. After making sure the idiot was still breathing everyone rushed back to the bunker. Charlie’s calling a friend to take care of the wendigo, Sam’s somewhere probably wearing a hole in the floor, and Benny’s sitting by the bedside, armed with a full package of Saltines.

Dean’s still unconscious. Benny can’t believe either of them let it get this far. No, he can believe Dean let it get this far. Benny just can’t believe _he_ let it get this far. He knew that Dean was barely eating or sleeping. It’s not surprising; it would take a lot of effort for him to ever fall asleep, and no food is gonna be actually appealing. But Benny had thought he was doing better than this.

Apparently he hadn’t been paying close enough attention.

Yeah, Benny’s gonna kill Dean.

Soon enough he starts stirring. Benny takes a couple of deep, calming breaths. Confrontational is not gonna work right now. For one, Dean’s pale and shaky and needs to eat more than anything. For another… Well, it’s Dean Winchester.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Benny greets. Dean rubs at his face, peering at Benny through his fingers.

“What happened?” he asks, words slurred.

“You’re a dumbass, that’s what happened.” Okay, that was confrontational. Breathe. Benny offers the crackers. “You need to eat somethin’. You’re not actually a vampire, babe.”

An eyebrow goes up. “We’re using pet names now?”

Benny scowls at him. “Stay on point. And eat somethin’.”

“Benny, I’m fine…”

“Oh really? So that whole passin’ out episode was just, what? Routine?” So the non-confrontational thing isn’t really working. Oh well.

Dean shifts, trying to push himself up on his elbows. It doesn’t work out too well. Benny shoves the Saltines in his face.

“I’m not leavin’ you alone ‘til you eat at least half a sleeve.”

Dean grumbles, but he snatches the crackers out of Benny’s hand, ripping open the packaging with gusto. He makes a face at the first cracker he picks out, but he eats it. Looking supremely grumpy. But he eats it. Benny relaxes.

“You can’t do this to yourself, Dean.”

Dean, bless his soul, doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll end up killin’ yourself,” Benny continues. “And we don’t even know where you’ll end up. And I swear to God, if you die ‘n’ leave me here after draggin’ me out of Purgatory for a second time, I will resurrect you ‘n’ kill you myself.”

That gets a small little half smile out of Dean. But he’s using the crackers as an excuse to keep quiet. Benny can’t complain too much. At least he’s eating.

There’s a small knock at the door, and Benny turns to see Charlie’s standing in the doorway, giving Dean a small wave.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Dean says through a mouthful.

“Well, that happens when you don’t sleep or eat,” Charlie says with a shrug, coming in and sitting on the foot of the bed. Dean glares.

“I get it, okay?”

Benny likes Charlie, he decides.

“Hey, guys--oh, hey, you’re awake.” Sam’s in the doorway now, and he looks a lot lighter the moment he notices Dean. Dean turns the glare on him.

“You gonna give me shit too?”

Sam glances between Charlie and Benny and shrugs. “Maybe later. I got an idea, though.”

“Yeah?” Dean tries pushing himself up again with a little more success. “Whaddya got?”

“Death.”

Benny must have something stuck in his ear because he’s pretty sure he didn’t hear that right. Charlie’s eyes, on the other hand, go wide.

“That might work!”

“Are you serious?” Dean asks, looking incredulous. “He’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“Yeah, but he’s helped us out in the past,” Sam argues. “And, I mean, we can’t go much higher than Death.”

“Hold up,” Benny interrupts. “Whaddya mean ‘death’?”

Charlie looks thrilled with the question. “You know the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”

Benny stares at her. “Yeah…”

“These boys have run into those guys a few times. Death’s a regular.”

“A regular? What does that even mean?”

“It means we’ve dealt with him a couple times in the past,” Sam explains. “He’s helped us out with a few things, putting Lucifer back in the cage, giving me my soul back…”

Benny just stares between the three of them. Charlie’s looking excited, Sam seems ready to move on, Dean looks a little guilty. Benny’s gaze finally rests on Dean.

“How much do I not know about you?”

Dean shrugs, suddenly extremely interested in the crackers in his lap. “A lot.”

“Dean can give you our life stories later,” Sam says impatiently. “But Death could help us figure this out. He should at least have an idea of what we can do.”

“And how do you expect to get in contact with him?” Dean bites. “Die?”

“Yes.”

Dean blinks. There’s a pause. Charlie scoots away from her spot on the bed so she’s not in the middle of the brothers. Benny’s still not sure he understands what’s going on.

“You’re serious,” Dean says.

“Do you have any other bright ideas, Dean?” Sam asks testily. “Because the only ideas you seem to have are things that will get you killed!”

“So the solution is for you to die instead?”

“Oh my god, not permanently! I’ll ask Cas to come over and make sure I come back!”

It’s hopeless. Benny starts coming up with a mental list of things to ask Dean to clarify after this.

“We don’t need the angel’s help!”

“His name is Cas!” Sam bellows. Everyone jumps a little. Benny didn’t know Sam was capable of getting that loud.

“And _you’re_ the one who gave him that nickname,” Sam continues, heated. “He used to be your friend, Dean. And he’s still mine. So you can just get over yourself.”

Sam turns on his heel to storm out of the room. “Oh, and I’m getting Death’s help, no matter what you say. So maybe you could go out and get him those fries you really like from that place in town. We want him in a good mood.”


	22. The Humanity Of An Angel

Sam closes the door a little harder--okay, a significant bit harder--than he should if he really wants to play off his spat with Dean. If he wants to report to Cas without completely losing his shit.

Cas is sitting on the end of Sam’s bed, but he stands when Sam tries and fails not to slam the door.

Cas looks . . . very neutral. Fuck.

“You heard that, didn’t you?” It’s not really a question. The walls in the bunker may be thick, but Cas’s an angel. Of course he heard Sam pitch a childish fit, even from down the hall. Of course Cas now knows how angry and upset Sam is with Dean and about Dean and about the way Dean treats Cas. Great.

Cas gets up and meets Sam where he stands.

If he were with anyone else, Sam would expect questions, he’d expect pity. But not from Cas. Cas just looks at him, no change in his expression.

He reaches up and Sam can’t help it if he flinches or if it makes shame roil in his stomach. When Cas looks at Sam it feels like he’s seeing everything, not just Sam’s features and skin and expression--his thoughts, his past, his genetic makeup . . . everything. It’s mortifying and enlightening all at once.

But instead of smiting Sam where he stands for what lies beneath Sam’s surface, Cas cups his head in his hands, draws tiny, light circles behind Sam’s ears with his thumbs, and looks.

Cas isn’t great at saying the “right thing” to Sam. Most times he manages to say something that’d be hugely offensive if it was anyone else saying it to anyone else. But lately Sam’s discovered Cas’ uncanny ability to say nothing when nothing needs saying. Cas doesn’t say anything now, just keeps looking.

Just when Sam is certain he can’t meet those stripping-piercing-flaying eyes for another moment, Cas grips his hair tight and draws him in. There’s an aggression in the way Cas pulls, slow but unshakably firm, to direct his head.

Cas’ grip is ironclad as he laps into Sam’s mouth. Even if Sam wanted to get away, he couldn’t unless Cas let him. The shiver that sends down Sam’s spine should embarrass him, but it just makes him grab at Cas’ lapels as if he can physically draw Cas closer.

He can’t, but Cas comes at him anyway.

Cas’ hands tighten in his hair--painful and sharp, keeping his head down at an awkward angle. It pinches the muscles in Sam’s neck, but he’s used to pain. Has even grown to like it.

And this pain means Cas’s in control, means Cas wants him. The epiphany is heady, overwhelming, and hugely arousing.

Cas usually kisses almost respectfully--like he’s following Sam’s lead. But this time Cas kisses like he’s in a fight. One of the fights where Cas slams his enemies to the ground like they weigh nothing and smites them with huge light displays. Cas attacks with teeth and lips and tongue, and there aren’t any light displays, but Sam feels insignificant in the glare of Cas’ strength.

It’s only when Sam’s vision starts to gray a bit at the edges that he realizes he can’t breathe. And that Cas doesn’t need to.

Before he can push at Cas--try to let him know--Cas lets him go. Sam gasps, hyper aware of how his perception becomes violently, immediately clear as soon as he can breathe again.

Cas looks concerned, ready to back off and call it good. But Sam can’t let that happen, not now that Sam has tasted his unadulterated strength. Not now that his heart’s pounding, the rhythm pulsating through him. Not now that he’s half-hard in his jeans at the prospect of going beyond kisses and cuddling.

“Don’t stop. I’m fine.”

“Sam-”

“Cas,” Sam’s surprised at how growly and low his own voice sounds. “Don’t . . . please don’t stop.”

Cas leans up this time and comes in slower like he’s letting things wind down, but Sam isn’t about to let this go. He’s angry and anxious and aroused. Cas always lets Sam lead. Usually he doesn’t know where he wants to go, but today Sam has a definite destination in mind.

He gets a grip on Cas and walks him back until the back of his knees hit the bed. Even though Sam couldn’t move Cas without his consent, Cas falls to the bed, taking Sam down with him.

Cas’s still moving hesitantly, like he expects Sam to call this off at any moment. Sam lifts away for a moment to look down at him. Cas looks not-quite neutral. This time the expression is schooled, intentional. It’s all the confirmation Sam needs.

“Please, Cas, don’t stop. Don’t go easy. I-I don’t want you to.”

Cas looks undecided for a moment. Then he flips them; Sam lands hard on his back.

Sam has a brief moment to wonder how Cas managed that with his knees bent over the bed and his feet on the floor with Sam draped over him. But then Cas’s on him again and Sam can’t catch his breath (though Cas seems to be making a conscious effort to ensure Sam has access to air).

Sam grinds up against Cas and finds him hard, ready. It’s all the go ahead he needs.

Cas’ belt and slacks put up a bit of a fight--after all, Sam’s never unfastened them before. Sam intends to go farther, but the moment Cas’ slacks come undone, he realizes there’s nothing underneath and that Cas is incredibly sensitive. He hisses and his cock twitches when Sam’s fingers brush against the head. Sam can’t stifle a moan.

Sam can’t get his jeans open fast enough. He shoves them, and his boxer briefs, down just far enough to free his cock. They both groan at the first hot grind together. There’s no rhythm, just sensation. And nothing’s ever felt better.

Sam’s never been with someone powerful enough to hold him down, force anything on him. Cas can, but he waited until Sam was good and ready.

Their hips work against each other--imperfect and out of sync but hard, impassioned. The most delicate skin on their bodies rubs and pulls raw and dry but for a few patches of slick precome. Sam feels it all--over stimulating and bordering on painful--the rasp of the zipper teeth of Cas’ fly, the tease of Cas’ fucking trenchcoat up and down his sides, the sharp pinch of Cas’ hands buried in Sam’s hair, the shift of the mattress where Cas’ elbows are anchored deep to support his weight.

Cas moves up, away and Sam whimpers. Can’t help it.

Cas grins and it’s all human--shit-eating and self-satisfied. Sam nearly pouts. Nearly. Cas lays a sweet kiss to Sam’s temple. Then, before Sam can even react, Cas lifts and moves Sam up, most of the way onto the bed until just his feet hang off the edge.

Cas strips out of his coat and drops his slacks. Anyone else might look absurd in a dress shirt, blazer, and tie with their dick standing up hard, dripping slick and creating a transparent spot on their shirt. But Cas isn’t anyone else.

Cas shrugs out of his suit coat and starts to loosen his tie, but stops when Sam makes a little noise.

“C’mere,” Sam requests, voice littler and higher than he intended.

Cas climbs back up the bed, straddling Sam’s hips, lining their cocks up. At the first touch, Cas’ eyes close and Sam feels a rush of power even as Cas covers his body so they can keep kissing.

Sam’s never been held down like this, fucked this simply and thoroughly. Somehow just the friction of Cas’ cock against Sam’s feels like a revelation, sweeter than any fuck he’s ever had.

Cas rides against him, faster and rougher, encouraged by the grip of Sam’s hands around his thighs. When they come, seconds apart, they’re still kissing.


	23. Sam Asks A Favor

They haven’t spoken--there hasn’t been a need. They’re settled together in Sam’s bed, both cleaned up and wearing only pajama bottoms, Cas’ head resting on Sam’s chest. Once Cas had found the position disconcerting due to the laughable divide between his bodily strength and true size and Sam’s weak humanness.

With Dean he automatically took a role of dominance and protection. But Sam always exudes some unease with submission, or perhaps only with submission to Cas. Now, lying in Sam’s arms with his head over Sam’s heart feels natural somehow.

Sam’s been slowing his breathing as if he’s trying to feign sleep, but Cas knows that Sam’s aching to say something. It’s all Cas can feel.

Sam’s trickier to read than his brother. As often as Sam endorses communication and openness, he remains emotionally distant. He doesn’t seem to trust enough to pray to Cas or even ask most things aloud. Whether he distrusts Cas or distrusts himself, Cas can’t tell. Maybe Sam’s intentionally barricading his mind. More likely, though, Cas doesn’t have enough practice. By the time Cas ever engaged in romantic and sexual activities with Dean, he was so attuned to the frequency of Dean’s thoughts, emotions, and desires that, in spite of being human at the time, it took little effort to understand what Dean wanted.

With Sam the method is imprecise at best. On occasion, the uncertainty lends excitement to their interactions that reminds Cas of what being human felt like. But when Sam feels scared, hurt, anxious, or alone--as he no doubt does now in spite of their physical proximity--it’s little more than frustrating.

Instead of attempting to divine further information via his angelic abilities (a method Sam has expressed discomfort with), Cas simply asks, “What’s wrong, Sam?”

Sam must have anticipated the question because he doesn’t start at the break in the silence.  He doesn’t look down to meet Cas’ eye, but Cas doesn’t look up either. Sam occasionally has difficulty with eye contact.

Sam takes his time answering, though he abandons his sleeping charade almost immediately. When he does speak, the words are soft and low as though Sam feels embarrassed.

“I think we have a chance of fixing Dean. And Benny. Their . . . thing.”

Cas hums--a vague questioning noise he employs primarily for Sam’s benefit. When Cas appears too detached, Sam often grows uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but I need to ask you a favor.”

Cas knows because Sam prefaced the request that way he won’t like what Sam asks. Humans seem to feel a need to prepare a listener for uncomfortable news. He’s learned to let them.

“I . . . We need you to kill me.”

Cas is up and glaring at Sam in an instant. Cas can tell from Sam’s stunned, cowed look that he probably shifted even faster than he intended--alarmingly, inhumanly fast.

“ _What?_ ”

Sam doesn’t look at him. Sam looks ashamed, but he likely also feels scared. Humans don’t always seem able to control their responses to distinctly inhuman phenomena, even when they know what’s happening.

“Someone has to talk to Death and I’m the only one who can go,” Sam begins.

“So you would like me to kill you?”

Sam looks young and vulnerable. Sheepish, even. “Just for three minutes. No longer, I swear.”

“Sam--”

“Cas, please?”

“Sam, I don’t . . . I’m not comfortable using my abilities that way.”

Tears stand in Sam’s eyes. Out of frustration, maybe? Cas has lost most of his grasp of the current interaction. Sam’s emotions run too strong, too high for Cas to follow.

“We’re out of options. Either you kill me and control the whole process or I’ll do it myself.”

“Surely there are other options, Sam. It’s not your sole responsibility to fix your brother’s mistakes.”

“It wasn’t his mistake, Cas! It was an accident! _God_ , you two need to move on.” Sam is definitely angry now, pulling farther and farther away every second.

“This has nothing to do with my relationship with your brother,” Cas responds, confused.

“You know what, I shouldn’t have asked. I only did because I don’t know of any other way to help him. Don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself.” Sam stands up, throwing off the blankets. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Sam’s almost at the door when Cas makes his decision.

“Sam, wait. I can do this more . . . precisely than anyone else.”

“Yeah, Cas, I know.”

“I’ll do it.”


	24. A Deal with Death

They set up in one of the spare bedrooms. Initially Sam assumed they’d just crowd into his room, but Dean had vetoed that idea instantly. He gave plenty of reasons--your room’s too small, your shit’d get in the way, I don’t want to camp out in your little man cave, Sammy--but it was all lip service.

Sam hadn’t thought about it but, once he looked, he couldn’t help but notice that everyone else seemed distinctly uncomfortable with the prospect of seeing him lying dead in his actual bed. As opposed to this bed which, in spite of the freshly laundered sheets, hadn’t been touched since before Sam was born.

It is a bigger room than Sam’s. Way too big for one person. But once they pulled the bed to the middle of the room, it fit all five of them plus a card table and some stolen vitals monitors. Like some sick observation room. Not that they’d need the monitors with Cas playing both executioner and paramedic.

Not that Sam was surprised they’d made it into the room anyway. Dean and Cas never communicated directly but somehow they still managed to butt heads at every turn. Cas wanted to perform the procedure in a more private space, just the two of them. And Dean, of course, had roared on about how he wasn’t going to let a supernatural thing kill Sam without safeguards and contingency plans and constant supervision.

Now everyone seems to be done arguing. Sam’s laying in his deathbed, shirtless and tucked in tight at Charlie’s insistence. She plopped him down, tucked him in, reassured him, brought him a cup water, reassured him, triple checked the stopwatch she was timing with, held Sam’s hand, and reassured him again.

She’s gone quiet and pale now. Her hand keeps twitching toward his on the bedspread, but she doesn’t look at him.

Benny’s a big, concerned shadow in a far corner. He starts to pace every now and then. Then he gets close to one of the clunky monitors, freezes, and retreats to his corner. No one’s looking at Benny except Sam. Like Sam’s the reason they’re all in this unused, newly-scrubbed room.

Dean’s right in Sam’s line of sight. Like he almost always is when Sam dies or when Sam pictures dying. He’s got his brave little soldier face and his protective big brother stance on. Just like he’s always worn when he thinks Sam needs him. He’s glaring at Cas like he can make the angel explode if he concentrates hard enough. Like he can fix this with just a little more give ‘em hell attitude.

It’s almost normal. Aside from the fact that Dean is inches away from a basket of steaming cajun fries from the one greasy spoon in town and he hasn’t even spared them a glance.

Sam balks, staring at Dean’s hand that’s on the bed knob instead of rooting through the fry basket like it damn well should be.

Cas is right behind Sam at the head of the bed. Sam can’t really see him, but he knows Cas well enough that he’s alternating between staring daggers at Dean and hovering protectively behind the headboard.

Charlie gets back up and checks every monitor, every sensor stuck on Sam’s temples and chest, every inch of the portable defibrillator Dean had Benny procure just in case. She even checks the fries, touching the side of the basket to make sure they aren’t cold. She’s made it clear she completely understands how important their junk food offering is in all of this.

“Everything’s set,” she says at the tone and volume tailormade for deathbed rites. “We should get started. Don’t want the fries to get cold.”

She sits back down on the bed, the curve of her back fitting perfectly against Sam’s side. She takes his hand again, just to give it a quick squeeze, and whispers, “I’ll be right here keeping time. I’ll be standing right by this bed when you get back, okay? I’ll time, and you’re going to be fine.”

Then she moves away. Nothing is touching Sam except the nodes that collect and report his temperature, respiration, heart rate, and brain activity.

“Are you ready?” Cas’ lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder from above, like he’s preparing to bless Sam rather than kill him. His hand weighs a ton.

Sam never imagined so much preparation going in to the last minutes of his life. He wishes impulsively that he’d told Dean to fuck off during this--there’s no reason for him to be there. He wishes even more that he hadn’t twisted Cas’ arm to get him into this.

He should’ve just dealt with this on his own instead of making himself out to be some great martyr.

“Yeah, let’s get on with it,” Sam lets his eyes fall closed. “Don’t eat all the French fries, Dean.”

Sam doesn’t have to open his eyes to know Dean’s giving every single one of his so-called bitchfaces a run for their money.

He expects Cas to knock him out with the old two fingers to the forehead approach, but instead Cas lays his palm on Sam’s bare chest. God, he’s doing his best not to hyperventilate and Cas touching him skin on skin isn’t fucking helping.

“It’s okay, Sam. I’m going to make sure it’ll be okay.”

Sam distinctly hears “It’d be better if you didn’t tweak my little brother’s nipples while you did it.” and Charlie responding, “Shut the fuck up, Dean.”

“Listen to me, Sam.” Cas talks like he can’t hear Dean. “I’m going to slow your heart rate gradually. You’re going to start to feel cold from the decreased circulation. Your vision is going to blur and you are going to have trouble focusing. You’re going to want to panic, just . . . just let it happen, okay? We’ll be right here when you come back,”

Sam tries to breathe, to relax. Then he remembers that the point of this whole endeavour is for him to stop breathing. Cas is right, he starts to panic. He wants to hold Cas’ hand he doesn’t want to be cold he wants . . . he . . . wants . . . to . . . breathe . . .

The machines beep, one long beep. Sam looks down at his body and realizes the machines are beeping about him. Which he probably should’ve anticipated. That is why Dean insisted on them.

They did exactly what Dean wanted them to do. He shouldn’t look so angry.

He looks around. Everyone’s still in their places over there, from Benny with his face turned toward the corner to the unresponsive body there in the bed. There isn’t anyone over here with him.

Right. Dean thought he might have to actually call a reaper considering his unannounced arrival.

“Um . . . _Messorum evoco qui me tetigit_.”

You’d think he’d be used to supernatural creatures and they way they show up out of the fucking blue. But in this case, it doesn’t help that she pops up right beside him.

He flinches but, to her credit, the reaper doesn’t so much as blink.

“What can I do for you?” She’s almost as tall as Sam, with black hair down well past her waist and knowing dark eyes.

“Hi. I . . . uh, need to talk to your boss. I’m S-”

“I know who you are, Sam Winchester.”

“Oh, great. Could you, you know, let him know I need to-”

“He knows.” She doesn’t smile, but Sam didn’t really expect her to. “Nice to meet you.”

And Sam really should be used to people disappearing without notice. He spends a significant amount of time in his bedroom with an angel.

But knowing that it’s coming does not keep him from startling like a skittish cat when Death skips the greetings and moves right on to, “Have you reconsidered, Sam?”

“No, actually, this--this trip isn’t about me.”

“Are you sure?”

Sam swallows. That’s really not something he wants to talk about. He’d been so close to leaving with Death for good the last time they spoke. And no, he doesn’t know if he made the right decision. Usually he’d say no, no he didn’t. He’s just not sure he wants to say that to Death himself.

“I am. Sure, I mean.”

“In that case, what trouble is your brother in now?”

Sam isn’t sure what he expected exactly, but he’s realizing that it wasn’t discussing his brother and his brother’s boyfriend while standing in a room with the both of them and his own dead body.

“It’s a bit of a story. We brought fries. Want to sit and eat . . . and talk?”

Death gives him an unamused look and gestures Sam to sit first. Once Death scoots his chair in at the card table and leans his cane against it, Sam can’t breathe. Can’t stop reliving the last time he sat across from Death and how ready he was to go.

Death takes a few fries, bites into them, and gives a slight nod.

“Take your time, Sam.”

Sam nods, reminds himself why he’s there. It’s got almost nothing to do with him at all.

“It’s been quiet, you know. We needed something to do and I was feeling guilty. Dean and I made a list of things . . . things we did we weren’t happy with and people we hurt. Benny--he’s a vampire, he’s died a couple times now I guess so you probably know him--was Dean’s main concern.

“So we figured out how to get Dean into Purgatory. Again. And he found Benny, but something went wrong when they got out.”

Death stands suddenly. Sam flinches as the chair clatters backward.

Death stalks over to where Dean’s hunched over the footboard of the bed. Death cocks his head and makes the half circle around Dean. He does a complete walk around Benny where he’s tensed nervously over a piece of medical equipment.

“I have never seen this. It shouldn’t be possible,” He gestures with his cane. “Souls don’t divide, much less this neatly.”

He looks back at Sam, his face sharp. “What exactly are you expecting from me? A cure for vampirism? That piece of soul has to go somewhere. Not even somewhere, Sam. It must go to one of these lucky gentlemen. I’m not Jesus Christ--I won’t put it in a herd of pigs and run them off a cliff.”

“I don’t--I’m not asking for a miracle. I just . . . can you put that piece back in Benny? Dean’s not eating, he doesn’t feel the need to sleep, he doesn’t process pain correctly. It’s killing him. Can you help him? Will you?”

“Perhaps,” Death stalks back to Sam and looms. “But I want something in return, Sam.”

“Okay. Just . . . just tell me what I need to do.”

“Twice now you’ve met me willingly and spoken with me as you would a friend. I assume you plan to leave again at the end of this meeting to continue your mortal life. I know you think about visiting me permanently often. Most people do not carry on such a casual relationship with the idea of me. I want you to experience what would happen if you made that decision at this juncture.”

“Like, if they couldn’t bring me back from this?” Sam gestures to where he’s lying on a bed.

Death nods. “Just like that.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Done.”

Death tips his cane toward Sam. “Turn your chair around and face the room. In a few moments Castiel will try and fail to revive you. From that point, you’ll watch a full twenty-four hours. If you hold up your end of the bargain, no one else in this room will experience that possible future. You’ll wake up normally and I’ll visit directly with you to make arrangements.”

“I can do that.”

Sam stands and turns his chair around, puts the back flat against one wall where he can see the entire surreal scene. He doesn’t notice when Death leaves.


	25. Sam Dies

It’s only a handful of seconds before Charlie calls time. Cas leans down from behind the headboard to put his hand back to Sam’s chest.

“It may take a moment for Sam to regain consciousness,” he warns. “I’m reviving him gradually to minimize the shock to his systems.”

Cas closes his eyes.

A few seconds pass. Charlie asks, “Is it okay if I hold his hand?”

Cas nods. Sam knows Cas well enough that he can already see the panic building in his face. Even though Cas hasn’t even opened his eyes.

Charlie grasps the body’s lifeless hand and looks eagerly at its lifeless face.

It’s been at least a full minute. Dean slams his hand against the footboard. “What the fuck’s taking so long? What did you do to him?”

Cas’s eyes fly open and flash with as much righteous anger as Sam’s ever seen. “He didn’t do this for me. _I_ didn’t do this to him.”

“You said you could bring him back--stop dicking around! He’s been out too long.”

“Do you want to come over here and revive him? Oh, right, you can’t.”

Cas’ hands are shaking. His whole body’s shaking with anger, and he looks scared.

Charlie’s murmuring “it’s all right, Sam” and “c’mon, wake up, Sam.”

Benny comes out of the shadows and touches Dean’s arm gently. “We need to charge the defibrillator. We’re wasting time.”  

Benny’s the first one to get the look.

It’s not an expression Sam could’ve described before this, but it hits each of them in turn. The look that says they know that this isn’t working. Benny has it before he and Dean drag the defibrillator over--before Cas has even stopped trying.

When the paddles are charged, Dean barks for Cas and Charlie to back off. Cas gets the look the moment he stops touching the body. He knows. He knows that if he can’t bring Sam back, an electrical charge isn’t going to either. He moves away from the bed and turns his back.

At this angle, he’s almost looking right at Sam. It makes it too easy to register the moment Cas realizes the body can’t be saved, and the moment Cas puts a neutral angelic face on instead.

They hit the body three times with the paddles. It arches up almost all the way off the bed with the current. As the body arches up, Sam loses sight of Charlie.

When the body’s laying flat back in the bed, she has the look too.

And of course Dean doesn’t look defeated yet. Sam would bet his soul on the fact that Dean knows the endeavour is hopeless.But even so, Benny has to wrest the paddles out of his hands and Cas has to shove him away from the bed to keep him from starting CPR.

Dean punches Cas in the face with his whole weight behind his fist. Even from across the room, Sam hears the fragile bones break. But Dean isn’t Dean. This Dean doesn’t feel pain. So Dean just keeps hitting even though Cas stands solid as a stone wall.

Dean keeps hitting Cas until Charlie screams and Benny tackles him to the ground.

After Benny yanks him away, Sam finally sees it sink in. Dean’s eyes go unfocused and glassy.

He realizes with a jolt that he’s seen Dean respond to death plenty of times, but he’s never seen Dean’s reaction to _his_ death. It’s a dead anger that Sam’s never seen on Dean at all--not when Dean was wholly Dean. He looks more like the demon that chased Sam down with an axe than the big brother who taught bullies a lesson during Sam’s middle school years.

Benny’s talking a constant stream into Dean’s ear. He sounds logical and rational. He’s trying to walk Dean out of the room, get him away from the powder keg building around the body. Not a word of it is getting through. Poor fuck thinks that because he and Dean have a thing that his words have inherent value and purpose.

But he’s never seen Dean after a fresh loss.

Benny may be the one keeping Dean and Cas from beating each other into the ground, but neither of them look at him.

They just keep yelling at each other.

“You killed him! You fucking _killed him_ , you fucking piece of shit!”

“He did this for _you_!”

“You said you could do this! You couldn’t do this one goddamn thing for him-”

“Fuck you, Dean! You’re so willing to sacrifice other people to solve your problems. Sam died for some scheme to fix _your_ mess. Sam’s dead _because of you_.”

Sam grabs the sides of his seat and squeezes until his fingers go numb. He wants to fucking step in. They’re both wrong. He was always going to die--it’s better that he did it for someone else this time at least.

But they wouldn’t see him. He knows that.

Charlie leaves then, shouldering her way past Dean and Benny and nearly getting thrown into a wall for her trouble. She passes right by Sam. She’s crying freely, the sound of it deafening, even with the fight roaring in the background.

Once she’s out of range, Benny grabs Dean’s upper arms and throws him against the wall. He holds Dean there.

Yells right in his face, “Dean Winchester, you listen t’ me. You want someone else to get hurt? You nearly squashed Charlie--she’s half your size! Sam not enough of a casualty for you?”

Dean’s eyes suddenly focus right on Benny and he slumps against the wall. He babbles. Sam really only catches “my goddamn fault--fuck!” before Benny gets Dean out the door.

Leaving Cas alone.

He’s still by the bed, like he had some notion of shielding Sam from any Dean-related damage. Even though, as far as Cas knows, Sam is far past the reach of anything like that now.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe.

Sam keeps holding his breath, so used to syncing up to Cas’ unnecessary but still comforting breathing pattern. When Cas does move, it’s slow. Defeated. He leaves the room without looking at the body in the bed and closes the door softly behind him.

Sam expects that to be that. He expects that at some point later in the day they’ll move the body and have done with it.

But Charlie walks in. She’s not crying anymore, but she looks like shit.

She doesn’t hesitate. She walks right across the room and begins setting the chaos there right. She folds up the card table and leans it against the wall, presses the chair to the wall beside it. Takes the fry basket out of the room, presumably to the nearest trash can.

Then she comes back in and closes the door. She gently detaches the sensors still waiting to convey the body’s vitals.

She winds up the cords and stacks them on their respective machines. She pushes the machines one by one into the corner where Benny had stood through the whole thing. She leaves them in two perfectly straight lines. Neat, tidy.

She walks back toward the bed and she’s crying again with a pinch in her expression that tells Sam she already has a headache from crying.

He has no idea what she plans to do until she slides her arms under the body’s shoulders and drags it up a little toward the headboard. She lets it lean at an angle with its head resting on the frame and retrieves Sam’s white t-shirt from where he folded it and dropped it on the floor.

She lifts up the body a little again and lets it lean on her while she works the shirt over its head and each of its arms. She drags the shirt down, covering the body’s bare belly, and rocks the body up on its side a bit to get rid of the bunching in the back.

Sam can’t help but want to come lift the body so Charlie doesn’t have to. It’s huge and she’s sweating by this point and cursing under her breath as she works.

She grabs a bundle that Sam didn’t notice her bringing in and starts working the fabric over the body’s head and arms.

It’s a sweater. Sam’s favorite sweater.

Dean teases him for wearing it, but it’s soft and comfortable and warm.

He never told Charlie it was his favorite. He doesn’t remember telling anyone anything about it.

Charlie takes care of the bunch at the small of the body’s back and smooths out the wrinkles on its stomach. She repositions the body now, pushing it down as far as the too-short bed allows. She climbs up on it and moves the pillow to her lap, struggling to get the body’s head positioned right. So it’s on the pillow in her lap.

She leans down over it and tucks it in, nice and tight.

When she sits back up, she goes still for a moment just looking at the body. She sighs and jumps like she’s startled herself when she runs her fingers through its hair.

She doesn’t talk to it, doesn’t pretend like it’s anything more than what it is. But she works through its hair methodically, working out tangles and smoothing down fly aways.

When she finishes, she stands and repositions the body again. Makes it comfortable, with its newly-neat hair making a halo on the pillow and its hands gathered on its stomach like it’s dozing.

She tucks it in again and smooths a hand over its hair even though not even a single strand is out of place.

She leans down and presses a soft kiss to its forehead, lingering there long enough to suck in a shaky breath.

“Sleep well, Sam.”

That poor sweet kid. They ruined her life. At least twice. And she still visits and takes them out for coffee and recommends television shows and helps on hunts.

And dresses their dead.

It’s a long time before anyone else comes in. Long enough that Sam jumps when the door opens.

It’s Benny. By himself.

He looks shocked by how clean the room is, how composed the scene is. Sam suspects that he came in to clean up. To make sure that when Dean inevitably comes back in, he doesn’t see the body hanging off the bed and machines that were supposed to save its life overturned on the floor.

Benny sits in the chair by the wall. It looks more like he’s with Sam than with the body.

He sits there with his elbows on his knees, rubbing absently at his beard.

When he starts talking, Sam jumps again.

“You didn’t have to do it. You didn’t have to do it, you stupid, selfless sonuvabitch.”

He sits up and groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fuckin’ Winchesters.”

He stares blankly at the body where it reclines.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t . . . deserve this. Lord. Why can’t you and your damned fool brother ever leave things lie?”

He stands and re-stacks the chairs, then turns toward the bed.

“‘m sorry, Sam.”

He looks like he might say more, but the door opens and he almost runs right into Cas.

Cas usually would say “pardon” or something, Sam’s sure, but this time he just stares.

Benny sighs, “I’m sorry, Cas. About earlier. He just . . .”

Benny’s voice trails off as he takes in the blank, angry stare on Cas’ face.

“I’ll give you some time alone with him. I . . . I really am sorry.”

Cas doesn’t watch Benny leave or even react when the door clicks shut. He just stands there, still.

He turns like he’s going to walk out the door, but stops. And stands, still as anything.

Sam aches to get up, to tell Cas it wasn’t his fault. It’s a physical ache in his knees and his shins and his fingers. Cas doesn’t know that there wasn’t anything to be done. He doesn’t know that Sam stayed away because Death asked him to.

Cas doesn’t know that Sam didn’t choose to stay.

Cas moves suddenly, with a little un-angel-like stumble. Even though he can move faster than the human eye can see, it takes him ages to get to the middle of the room, where the body is on display.

He runs a hand over its hair, mussing Charlie’s careful work a little. He cups its jaw in his hand. Then he falls.

Sam yells and lurches forward, his only thought to break Cas’ fall. He stops at the last possible instant.

If he gets out of this chair, he can’t help Dean.

If he stays in this chair, Cas will never have to actually feel this. None of this will have happened.

Sam winces at the sound of Cas’ human knees hitting the hardwood. Cas crumples like no muscle in his body has the strength to keep him upright. He buries his face in the bed beside the body, fingers tearing at the bedspread.

Sam hears the sobs before he understands the heaving of Cas’ shoulders or sees the tears streaking his cheeks when he lifts up his head.

Sam’s never seen Cas cry. It had never occurred to him to even wonder if Cas could.

Minutes pass. Cas’ sobs echo and make Sam’s skin itch.

Sam’s nails break the skin on his palms where he’s pressed them in to remind himself that this isn’t real. That he can’t get up and fix this. That he should let Cas experience this. That Death demanded that he watch Cas experience this.

Sam was supposed to give Cas a place to belong. He was supposed to fix this. But of course, he’s just made it worse.

Cas touches the sleeve of the body’s sweater. Sam’s worn that sweater so often when they’re together.

Cas gently pushes up the sleeves a little bit so they aren’t covering the body’s hands. Sam hates not being able to use both hands at all times.

Cas looks up into its face, holding its cold hand tight between both of his.

Cas’ voice is thick with tears, but his words ring across the room like a bell. He stares up at the body and says, “I love you.”

Sam’s breath catches. He hasn’t even thought the word. It hasn’t been in his vocabulary for years. He hasn’t thought about it because he knew it wasn’t available to him.

Apparently, he’s underestimated Cas’ ability to see him as a whole and care anyway.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Cas can’t hear him of course, but Sam can’t not respond. “God, Cas. Oh my god. I love you too. So much.”

Cas turns his head sharply and for a moment Sam thinks somehow Cas heard him. But then he hears it.

“You have to do _something_!” That’s Benny, growling like a bear. “You can’t just leave the body here.”

“It’s not just ‘a body’! Jesus. He’s my brother--he’s my responsibility and I’m going to fucking bring him back.” And, of course, that’s Dean. Pitching the same plan they always do.

“You can’t bring him back, Dean! You can’t just fix this.”

“Don’t you fucking go in that room, Benny, I swear to god. Don’t you fucking go near him. You can’t just get rid of him. Fuck off.”

“Fine. Poke ‘im, prod ‘im. Do what you want. The more you experiment on that body in there, the less you have left of your brother.”

“Fuck. Off.”

Sam glances back to the bed. He wishes he could tell Cas to get out of there before Dean comes in. The way things are, they could tear each other apart.

Cas is already gone.

The body is tilted to one side now, coming untucked.

It stays that way for hours.

Sam hears people pass in the hall outside. He hears Dean and Charlie bickering until Charlie bursts into tears. He hears Charlie and Benny talking about calling a funeral home.

Mostly he hears the low hum of the one monitor left plugged in.

Sam’s lost track of time, wrapped up in the hum and the tilt of the body. It’s been at least fifteen hours since this all started when Dean comes into the room. Holding a ouija board.

Dean sits down cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

“Hi, Sammy,” he sighs. “Look, man, I’m sorry this . . . got so complicated. Don’t worry, okay? I’m going to fix it.”

He unfolds the board and puts both hands on the planchette. “You gotta let me know what’s going on, Sam. It’s insensitive to leave a guy in suspense. Did you talk to Death?”

He falls silent looking at the board.

“Are you even here? Sam? C’mon, Sam. I need y-- I need to talk to you, okay, so get your incorporeal ass over her.”

He waits again. For like a solid twenty seconds before he blows up and throws the board against the wall.

“You know what, fuck you! I didn’t ask you to die for me. I never asked you to . . . FUCK.” Dean buries his head in his hands. “I don’t know when I started to suck so bad at protecting you.”

Dean gets up and knocks over the humming monitor. It doesn’t stop humming until he unplugs it too.

Sam doesn’t know when he started crying, but it doesn’t stop.

It doesn’t stop when Dean screams and puts his fist through a wall.

It doesn’t stop when Dean stands by the bed and tells a story about the time that Sam got a concussion falling off a swing set, and Dean thought he was dying and how this is nothing like that.

It doesn’t stop when Dean recites fifteen spells, draws sigils on pretty much every surface of the room, and sprinkles the body with spell ingredients.

It doesn’t stop when Dean drinks most of a fifth of whiskey himself and passes out with his head on the bed.

It doesn’t stop when Dean wakes up five or six hours later and fixes the body’s hair before covering it up with the comforter.

Sam’s not even sure it stops when Dean leaves.

* * *

There isn’t anyone else in the room when Death comes. Just Sam and the body.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam knows what he looks like. He knows what he sounds like when he spits “What else do you want from me?”

“You’ve fulfilled our bargain. You can go back now if that’s what you want.”

“What was the fucking point? What do you get out of this?”

Death leans in close. His voice is grave and absolute. “The point is this, Sam: you have no perspective. You refuse to acknowledge the good you’ve done or the people who love you. I once told you it would be an honor to collect your soul. That is true.

“But I will not let you live in a gray area between your life and the trip you will one day take with me. Make a decision. I can collect you now if that is really what you want. If you choose to live, you should actually live.”

Sam swallows hard. “I . . . I want to go back to my family. Please.”

Death nods.

* * *

Sound comes back a little at a time.

“Sam? Can you hear me?” Charlie’s leaned over so far she might as well be laying on top of him and Sam’s pretty sure she’s cutting off the circulation to his hand. It feels so good.

“Yeah. Yeah, Charlie, loud and clear.”

She gives an ear-splitting shriek and suffocates him in a hug.

“Way to take your goddamn time. Scared me half to death.”

Sam strokes her hair, tucking a piece behind her ear to get it off his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

When Charlie scoots back, Sam glances upward. Cas is there above him like some kid’s imagining of a guardian angel.

Sam wants to say thank you, but the words can’t come out. Not here, not with Dean in the room. There are too many other words that would probably come spilling out afterward.

Cas seems to understand somehow though.

Sam props himself up to see Dean and Benny better where they’re standing at the foot of the bed. Dean looks terrified and Benny has the world-weary expression of someone who thinks nothing will ever surprise them again.

“Hiya, Sammy,” Dean talks softly like Sam’s something fragile now. “How . . . how’d it go?”

Sam’s about to give a serious answer when he notices that the fry basket is definitely completely empty. Instead he says, “Christ, Dean, I thought I told you not to eat all the fries.”

Sam gives Dean his best shit-eating grin. Dean flips him off.


	26. Death Is Unimpressed (As Usual)

Death looks… well, like Death.

And weirdly enough, he doesn’t look like death in a creepy or ugly way. He’s just skinny, gaunt, and pale as fuck.

Charlie kinda wants to ask him how feels about Terry Pratchett.

Death also looks somewhere between bored and disdainful as he paces around Dean. Dean looks somewhere between annoyed and anxious.

“So?” he grits out after a few moments. Death finally stops pacing and looks Dean dead in the eyes (...heh).

“This will not be pleasant.”

“Nothing with you ever is,” Dean grumbles. “What’s the process here?”

Death raises an eyebrow just barely, like a warning, before clasping his long bony fingers together in front of him.

“First I will need to remove your soul. Then I can remove the foreign part. This will take five, maybe ten minutes.” He turns his attention to Benny, who looks ready to shit himself.

“Then I will need to remove your soul in order to reunite the two parts.”

“Whoa, wait,” Dean interrupts, stepping back in Death’s line of sight. “You saying Benny’s gonna be a vampire again?”

Death looks like he’s suppressing the urge to sigh. “Yes. Unfortunately I cannot simply throw away a fraction of a soul. It needs to go somewhere.”

“But it wasn’t originally part of his soul!” Dean argues.

“I do not have the time or the patience to explain the metaphysics of souls to you, Dean Winchester,” Death says. “Nor, frankly, do you have the capability to understand.”

Dean looks a bit offended by that, blinking at Death dumbly. Then he turns to Benny.

“We don’t have to do this.”

Benny goes from looking sick to pissed in the flash of an eye. “If we don’t you’re gonna end up killing yourself. So, yes, we do have to do this.”

“Benny--”

“I am not yet finished,” Death interrupts. Dean whirls back to glare at him.

“You saying it gets worse?”

“A soul is like a gown,” Death says, ignoring the question. “The part of Benny’s soul that makes him a vampire was torn off and attached to yours with a safety pin. I can therefore remove it without too much trouble. Reattaching it to Benny’s soul, however, requires a lot more care and time. When a sleeve is torn off a gown you cannot simply safety pin it back on.”

Dean is staring at Death, and Charlie watches as the information slowly sinks in.

“How long we talking?” he says quietly.

“A week,” Death replies. “Possibly two.”

“For you to put my soul back together?” Benny asks, looking confused. He doesn’t get it, Charlie realizes. But looking around at both Dean and Sam, he’s the only one still in the dark.

“You’re gonna be soulless while he works on your soul,” Charlie supplies, her gut twisting nastily. Benny frowns at her.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Sam says, and there’s something dark in his eyes. “You won’t have a conscience. You won’t be you.”

Dean turns his glare on Sam. “Did you know?”

Sam blinks at him. “What? That this is what had to be done? No, he didn’t mention it.” He’s frowning at Death. “If he had, I wouldn’t’ve… this isn’t worth it.”

“Excuse me?” Benny’s stepping forward, looking incredulous. “I thought you were just as determined as me to get this fixed, Sam.”

Sam shakes his head. “You don’t know what being soulless is like, Benny--”

“And you do?”

Sam’s quiet for a moment. “Yes.”

There’s a long stretch of incredibly awkward silence. Benny looks stunned and confused, but Sam just looks blank. Dean’s starting to get twitchy, Death looks impatient (it seems to be a trend), and Charlie just feels… gross. Meeting Death has not been as exciting as she was anticipating.

Benny sighs, eyes closing, shoulders drooping. “I can handle it. And I’m sure the three of you can handle me. It’ll be fine.”

“Benny--” Dean tries to protest again, but Benny looks up at him with a glint in his eye.

“Dean. We’re fixing this. Don’t argue.”

Dean struggles for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish, before snapping his jaw closed, looking irritated. After a brief pause, Death steps forward again.

“You will need to be restrained.”

Dean nods and moves to one of the chairs at the long conference table. Benny looks alarmed.

“Restrained?”

“Simply touching the soul is an excruciating experience,” Death explains as Sam quickly pulls off his belt and ties Dean’s wrists together behind the chair.

“It’s for my own safety, Benny,” Dean says. “Relax.”

Charlie’s getting antsy with nerves, so she runs to the kitchen and grabs a wooden spoon. Sam’s finished with Dean’s wrists by the time she gets back so she gently puts the spoon between Dean’s teeth. Dean smiles at her gratefully before they all step away.

Death steps forward.

Dean screams.

Charlie can’t watch. The veins in Dean’s neck are glowing red, and Death’s hand has disappeared in Dean’s torso. It’s creepy and gross and downright terrifying, and Dean keeps screaming.

Until finally, it stops.

Charlie looks back, meaning to make sure Dean’s all right, but she’s distracted by the glow in Death’s hand. Almost pure white--maybe a tinge of green because of fucking course--and swirling with this fiery excitement. Charlie catches a glimpse of this orange sort of growth thing on the edge of the soul and realizes--that must be it. The part of Benny’s soul that’s the source of all their problems.

“Dean?” Benny’s quiet, gentle. “You all right?”

She’s distracted from the soul by a sniffle. Confused, she turns her attention back to the rest of everyone as Death focuses on his work. Sam and Benny are glancing at each other looking completely off-center. Dean, still in the chair, spoon dropped to his lap, looks like he’s actually on the verge of tears. There’s another loud sniffle, and Charlie hurries over, gathering Dean into a hug, pressed tight to her chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she murmurs. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

It’s probably just because she’s got Dean crying into her shirt while Benny and Sam just watch awkwardly like idiots, but it sure doesn’t feel like it only takes Death ten minutes to remove the vampire bits. But he finally does, and Charlie can feel him waiting impatiently behind her as she draws back from Dean and smiles at him.

“You’re okay,” she repeats again, and Dean gives her a watery smile. She gives him a quick kiss on the forehead before carefully placing the spoon back between his teeth. Then she backs away, and Death steps forward again.

Once it’s done, Sam slowly goes to undo the belt around Dean’s wrists. Dean looks a little stunned and wipes at his eyes furiously once they’re free. Cautiously, Benny steps closer.

“You all right?”

Dean looks up at him and flashes a shaky smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He stands, rubbing at his wrists, and glances at Charlie. She smiles at him, trying to be encouraging without being embarrassing because, well, this is Dean after all, and he gives her a sort of half smile. Good enough.

But they’re only halfway there. Benny sits down, suddenly looking a lot more nervous about this whole thing, places the spoon between his teeth, and Sam quickly ties his wrists. Death steps forward, and Benny doesn’t scream. He roars.

When it’s done, Death steps away, and everyone holds their breath. Benny looks calm. Blank. Emotionless. Tentatively, Dean takes a step closer.

“Benny?” he says quietly. “...You okay?”

Benny looks up at him sharply. “Yeah.”

There’s a loud snap as Benny pulls his arms forward, Sam’s belt clattering to the floor. Benny stands, smooth and fast. Then he marches to the hallway and disappears.


	27. Don’t Stand In Benny’s Way

Dean feels himself floundering a little bit.

Two loud clicks make Dean flinch slightly as Death closes his briefcase. He looks at Sam, Dean, and Charlie in turn with a curt nod.

“I will return in one to two weeks.”

“Thanks,” Sam says. And then Death’s gone. Dean looks at Sam who jerks his head in the direction Benny disappeared.

“Go.”

Dean turns and runs after Benny.

On a list of things Dean never wanted to ever do again, having someone he loves be soulless is right up there at the top. Sam was awful and scary and just wrong. It was like Dean didn’t even know him anymore… which, really, he didn’t. And Benny… It’ll only be one to two weeks. And at least he knows what’s going on. They’ll just go into lockdown and stay in the bunker until Death comes back, and then everything can go back to normal.

“Benny?” Dean says pushing the barely cracked door to their bedroom open.

There’s a duffle open on the bed, clothes haphazardly tossed in, and Benny’s throwing more in. Dean stares, a faint buzzing in his ears and a lump in his throat.

“What’re you doing?” he asks hoarsely. Benny looks up like he’s just now realizing Dean’s there and grins. But it’s not Benny’s grin. It’s off, it’s emotionless, it’s wrong. It’s soulless.

“You’re not all vampiric now, are ya?”

Dean turns his stare to Benny. Everything feels disconnected.

“Y’know what that means?” Benny continues, dropping the clothes in his hands in the duffle and walking--no, stalking closer. Dean takes an involuntary step back.

“You owe me one of those famous Dean Winchester blowjobs.”

Dean sidesteps Benny’s approach just in time and yanks himself back into reality. “Are you kidding me?”

“Ah, c’mon,” Benny growls, following Dean like a predator. “You bragged so much ‘bout it, got me all curious ‘n’ excited.”

Dean keeps backing up unsteadily. No. No, no, no, no, no, it’s exactly things like this, this is why he doesn’t like soulless people.

“Benny, you’re not yourself right now,” he says. “You got no moral compass or anything, but I-I guarantee you’ll enjoy it more if we just… wait, okay? I’m not… Shit, I was only soulless for sixty seconds, and I’m still a little shaken up.” He tries to flash Benny a convincing smile. “Not on my A game right now, brother. Wouldn’t… wouldn’t be as good.”

But Benny keeps following. He’s almost got Dean cornered, right up in his space and seeming a lot bigger than Dean knows he actually is. He grabs Dean’s shoulder, hard and vice-like, and Dean hisses. He hits the bedside table with the back of his legs, and with a sudden burst of inspiration, dives for the bed. But Benny moves quick, both hands going to Dean’s arms, pushing him down into the mattress.

That’s when Dean panics.

Putting all the force behind it that he can muster, Dean aims a well-placed kick for Benny’s right knee. With a yell, Benny lets go and buckles, and Dean rolls off the mattress to the other side, jumping back to his feet. Now they’ve got a nice barrier between them. It’s okay. It’s okay, he’s got this.

“Fuck,” Benny hisses, pushing himself back up to his feet. Dean grabs the first thing his hands find and holds it up as a shield, swearing when he realizes it’s a pillow. Benny raises his hands in a mock surrender and chuckles.

“Relax, Jesus. I’m bored anyway.”

Dean doesn’t even twitch, and Benny rolls his eyes.

“Not like I was gonna rape you or somethin’, darlin'.”

Dean’s gonna be sick.

Benny grabs for the duffle suddenly, and Dean tries not to flinch. Benny pulls the duffle closer and zips it up, hauling it over his shoulder and starting for the door.

“Where are you going?” Dean asks, voice all hoarse and gross again.

“Gonna go see ‘Lizabeth.”

Dean blinks, confused for a moment. “Your granddaughter?”

“Yep. Wanna make sure she’s doin’ okay. Haven’t seen her since killin’ that Martin fella.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Dean says, lowering the pillow slightly and taking a couple steps closer. Benny’s head whips around to glare at Dean, eyes flashing.

“She’s my granddaughter.”

“Yeah, but you’re soulless,” Dean says quickly, hurrying to… do something. Stop Benny somehow. They’re going into lockdown. They’re not leaving the bunker. Not until everything’s resolved. Not now. He reaches out for Benny’s arm. “We gotta--”

Suddenly Dean’s side is colliding with the corner of the desk, and he’s crashing to the ground. Pain screams at him from his hip where the desk hit, his tailbone where the floor hit, and his chest where a thick hand hit. Dean blinks away the dizziness and shock and looks up to see Benny standing there, glowering.

“I’m gonna go see ‘Lizabeth, Dean. You can come with or you can stay here.”

Then he storms out the door.

Dean rubs absently at his chest, a bruise already forming.


	28. Finding Elizabeth

Something’s wrong.

Besides the obvious, of course. Cuddly, lovable Benny being soulless is super wrong, but there’s something else that’s off. Charlie just can’t pick it out exactly. Or, well, what exactly it means.

Benny’s driving, for one thing. Which, sure, Benny and Dean are together so maybe Dean trusts him with the Impala, but Charlie can only remember, like, twice when Cas drove back in the day, and those were always situations where Dean _couldn’t_ drive. This time?

Dean’s sitting in the backseat with her, stubbornly not looking at anyone, and paying a severe amount of attention to his phone. Though, the more Charlie watches him, the more she’s positive he’s not actually doing anything on it. It looks like he’s just staring at the screen.

Something happened between when Benny left the main room in the bunker and when Dean announced they were headed to Louisiana. Something happened between Benny and Dean, and it probably had something to do with the lack of a soul. Charlie’s read the unpublished books, and she’s read the meta about soulless!Sam. She’s never asked about it--that’s not a road she wants to go down with the brothers--but she feels like she’s got a pretty good handle on what being soulless is all about.

There’s meta galore out there about soulless!Sam. Some of it is harder to buy, especially knowing Sam personally, but some of it is pretty easy to believe. Her favorite theory, and she’s sticking with it until soulless!Benny proves her wrong, is that the soul is a person’s inhibitions. Dean’s brief moment soulless seems to help the theory, with him being all emotional. And there were many things wrong about soulless!Sam, but one of the main and most obvious things was his level of sass. Most people aren’t allowed to be violent on an everyday basis, which is why when most people lose their souls they get super violent. Sam, though, is violent always. It’s his job. What he’s not allowed to do is speak his mind. So soulless!Sam did.

Charlie can’t quick pick out what Benny’s soul doesn’t allow him to do. She doesn’t know him well enough. But whatever it is….

The drive is quiet, despite the four people crammed in one car. It’s also painfully long. Charlie’s not even really clear on why they’re going to Louisiana. Dean mentioned something about an Elizabeth, and Sam explained Elizabeth is apparently Benny’s great granddaughter or something like that, but Charlie’s still confused. Does this Elizabeth know Benny’s still alive? Was a vampire (and is now soulless)? Who’s Elizabeth’s great grandmother? Was Benny a vampire when Elizabeth’s great grandmother got pregnant? (Is that possible? Is that terrifying vampire baby birth in Twilight a real thing? God, Charlie hopes not.)

Also, most importantly, did Elizabeth inherit Benny’s crazy blue eyes?

When the car finally pulls to a stop they’re outside what probably once was a charming little Cajun diner. It’s boarded up now. And it looks like it has been for a while. Benny gets out of the car, looking frustrated.

“She probably closed it up after what happened with Martin, Benny,” Sam says quietly, after looking back at Dean and realizing he wasn’t going to. Benny kicks at the Impala. Dean winces but continues staring at his phone. There are a few quiet moments except for Benny’s grumbling and pacing before he finally gets back in the car.

“You’re right,” he growls. “But I know where she lives.”

And they’re driving again.

Luckily this drive is shorter. It’s still awkward as hell. But at least it’s shorter.

They drive up to a small little house on the edge of town. Everyone (except Dean, who’s still staring at his phone) stares at the house as they approach. The windows are smashed in. The door’s kicked open. Blinds and curtains are all a mess. It’s dark indoors.

Benny pulls the car to a stop rather harshly. Dean curses, his phone toppling out of his hands, and finally looks up. His mouth drops open.

Benny’s out of the Impala in a flash, running up to the door, bellowing Elizabeth’s name. Sam slowly gets out of the car, taking in the scene. Charlie feels something nasty settle in her stomach. As if today weren’t already bad enough.

Benny disappears inside, but a little old lady from next door comes hobbling outside. Charlie smacks at Sam’s thigh through the door, pointing toward the newcomer. Sam straightens and walks over to her.

“Excuse me, ma’am, could you--”  
“Ya’ll lookin’ fer Lizzie?” the old lady croons. Charlie’s lips curl. There’s something about this woman she really doesn’t like.

“Yes, we’re old friends of hers. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen her, and--”

“Sweet girl, she was,” old lady says. “Shame, really.”

“What’s a shame?” Sam asks. Charlie’s glad it’s Sam talking to her. If it were her, she would’ve smacked the old lady by now. Interrupting old cow.

“The devil got his claws in her, he did,” the old lady explains. “People ‘round here ain’t too fond of that so she was run outta town. Won’t be showing her face ‘round this place no longer.”

“The devil?” Sam echoes, glancing back at Charlie and Dean. Charlie feels Dean shift with interest behind her.

“It’s a disease!” old lady barks suddenly, making everyone jump. “Ain’t natural, man lying with man, woman lying with woman! My old Jerry, he woulda--”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Sam interrupts. Charlie can feel her blood starting to boil. Is that really what’s going on? Is this lady serious?

“You mean Elizabeth was run out of town because she’s gay?”

“You betcha!” the old lady crows excitedly. “Ain’t no one like that welcome here. Unnatural! Evil! The devil himself--”

“I’ll have you know,” Sam says lowly, dangerously, “every single one of us here, myself, my two friends in the car, and the guy in the house over there, none of us are straight. And there’s nothing, let me repeat that, _nothing_ is wrong or unnatural about that. Homosexuality has been around since before Ancient Roman times. It’s common in many other species. Just because you’ve got a stick up your ass and are uncomfortable with it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong. It’s perfectly natural, and, by the way, it doesn’t affect you at all so I don’t even understand why you give a fuck.”

Charlie really likes Sam Winchester.

The little old lady looks positively shocked and starts backing away slowly like a cornered animal. Sam just glares at her until she disappears back inside her house.

“Give the old woman a heart attack, will ya, Sammy?”

Sam turns his glare on Dean who raises his hands in mock surrender.

“They ran Elizabeth out of her home, Dean. Just because she likes people of the same gender.”

“Dude, I’m not saying she didn’t deserve--”

Benny comes storming out of the house at that point, looking irritated. “Well, she managed to get out in time,” he announces. “Clothes and toiletries and shit are all missing. Dunno what happened, though.”

“We do,” Sam says. Benny frowns at him. Sam glances at Dean. There’s a moment where Dean’s mouth twists unhappily, but he turns toward Benny anyway. Though, Charlie’s pretty sure he’s not actually meeting Benny’s eyes.

“Apparently your granddaughter’s gay,” Dean explains tightly. “And apparently her neighbors are bigots.”

It’s time like these that Charlie wishes she weren’t so small. Usually it’s because she could use the extra weight and height against monsters, but right now she has a compelling urge to protect.

Benny barks out thundering curse, and Dean flinches so violently his phone tumbles out of his hands again and to the floor of the car. Benny stirs up a storm, bellowing and stomping. Dean slowly picks his phone back up and goes back to staring at it blindly.

And suddenly Charlie thinks she might know what happened.

* * *

Benny wants to start knocking down motel doors one by one that night, but Sam manages to convince him that the rest of them actually need to get some sleep so they settle down for the night at the first motel they come to. Benny starts banging on the other doors there right away as Charlie and the brothers get comfortable. Sam hops in the shower as soon as he drops his duffle. Dean grabs the remote, turns on the television, and sits down on the edge of one of the beds, staring sightlessly. Charlie watches him for a moment before flopping down next to him.

“So how’re we gonna do sleeping arrangements?” she asks casually. “I hear Sam kicks in his sleep.”

A small half-smile appears on Dean’s lips. “Yeah, he does.”

“So you’re not gonna make me sleep in the same bed as him, are you?” She knocks her shoulder against his side gently, playfully. The half-smile slips, and he glances out the window. They can still hear Benny pounding away on door after door.

“Sam didn’t sleep when he was soulless, right?” Charlie asks and then holds her breath. She might’ve just crossed the line there. But hopefully it was done with enough grace that Dean can just pretend she doesn’t mean what she’s saying.

He relaxes. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He meets her eyes and grins. “No funny business, though.”

Charlie smacks him on the shoulder. “That’s so wrong for so many reasons.”

Dean laughs, and Charlie watches him closely. She knows this trick. She’s read it dozens of times, and she’s seen it for herself even more.

Dean picks the remote back up and flips through the channels before finding an episode of Dr. Sexy. He leans back to get comfortable and loses focus. After a moment, he says quietly,

“He didn’t do anything, Charlie. Just… so you know.”

Charlie turns to him with a frown. First off, since when does Dean Winchester share? Second… What?

“You don’t need to protect him,” she says after a moment. Dean tears his eyes away from the tv to meet hers.

“I’m not. He didn’t. Swear to god.”

Charlie frowns at him a little longer. “Did he try?”

Dean’s jaw tenses, and he turns his attention back to Dr. Sexy. Charlie waits for a little while, waiting for a response. She doesn’t get one.

* * *

Benny’s gone by every door in the motel twice by the time they wake up the next morning. While Sam tries to talk some sense into Benny and Dean gets ready for the day, Charlie works some of her computer magic and tracks down Elizabeth’s credit card purchases. There are a few motels in the past couple weeks, actually--it looks like she’s kept moving. Charlie finds the most recent one and looks up the address before taking it to Benny. They’re all back in the car in less than fifteen minutes.

* * *

Sam tries to hold Benny back, but the moment they get the room number from the receptionist Benny is out the door and running to the motel room. Sam lets out a long sigh, and Charlie winces when Benny starts trying to knock down the door.

“Does she even know who he is?” she asks.

“You mean if he’s a vampire?” Dean says. “Maybe. She knows his face. Back when he first came back up top Benny worked in her cafe for a while. Went by a false name, but she at least knows his face. There was a… situation with a hunter, though, so she might know.”

Sam frowns at her. “I thought you read the unpublished books.”

“I stopped after I showed up,” Charlie explains. “It got too weird after that.”

Both brothers snort.

There’s a loud crack that makes all of them jump, and then they can hear angry yelling.

“Back the fuck off! I ain’t done nothin’ to you, just leave me the hell alone!”

“I ain’t here to hurt you, I’m here to help!” Benny yells back. There’s a pause. Then the door opens a crack, a pale face peeking through.

“Roy?”


	29. A Moment of Quiet

Sam’s been in the shower for probably close to twenty minutes, trying to get a crick out of his neck. He’s been tense through this whole shitshow.

Dean barely survived Sam’s soulless stint. And they weren’t dating.

Sam sees how Dean flinches when Benny gets loud now. It may have gone too far already. He has no idea if Dean’s going to recover once all this is over.

He’s about to start washing his hair when he hears a tap.

“What, Dean?” Sam yanks back the shower curtain to hear better.

It’s not Dean. Cas’s standing in the shitty motel bathroom stark naked.

“Surprise?”

“Babe, you’re . . .” Sam grins. “You’re naked.”

“I thought it unwise to wear my cuddling attire too near a running shower.”

“Very astute.”

“Thank you,” Cas leans in to kiss him.

Sam leans out to kiss back then shivers and thinks better of it.

“Want to join me?”

Cas steps in under the spray and tugs Sam down to keep kissing him. The tub-shower combo feels ridiculously tiny with both of them in it. It’s nice to be in close quarters with someone and not want to kill them.

When they break apart, Cas gives a crooked smile.

“How goes it?”

“As expected.”

“That bad?”

“Pretty much.”

Cas intuitively finds the knot in Sam’s neck and starts loosening it up. Sam closes his eyes. The hot water and Cas’ strong hands feel incredible.

Cas works out the knot and moves on to running his fingers through Sam’s hair, gently working out the tangles as he comes across them.

Sam puts his hand over Cas’, feels the topography of Cas’ skin.

“Thank you for coming. I didn’t know I’d need you, but I’m so . . .Thank you.”

“Of course, Sam.”


	30. A Bad Night's Sleep

Dean doesn’t really process the next day or so well.

Elizabeth, apparently, convinced herself after Martin was killed that Martin was just crazy. Which, okay, he was, but that didn’t mean any of his ramblings about Benny that night hadn’t been true. She’d also convinced herself that the fangs she’d seen were a figment of her imagination.

Somehow they manage to convince her, despite the lack of fangs and any monster for proof. Dean missed that part. Maybe she already knew and was lying to herself? She seemed pretty convinced the last time he saw her, when she was sitting on the steps of the cafe. Who knows.

Then Elizabeth tells them why she ended up here. She had a friend, nothing serious, but they fooled around. People found out. People managed to put the fear of god in her friend, and this friend shut herself back in the closet or something. Either way she left Elizabeth, like nothing had ever happened. Elizabeth wasn’t about to let these people bully her, though. But when they started throwing bricks through her windows and setting fire to her curtains she couldn’t really stay at her house any longer. So she packed up the essentials and left.

Dean only vaguely hears her story. He’s too distracted by the way Benny keeps reacting with angry grunts, violent gestures, and loud bursts of indignation. He doesn’t look at Dean once. Dean’s not sure if he wants him to.

By the time Benny and Elizabeth have caught up it’s late. Elizabeth throws together some food for all of them, and Sam gets them a second room for the night. Charlie and Benny stay in Elizabeth’s room, and Dean and Sam take the second one.

Dean didn’t really sleep last night. And he doesn’t really sleep tonight as well. He tries not to toss and turn and wake up Sam. After a couple hours Dean can’t stand it anymore and pads quietly to the bathroom.

He splashes some cold water on his face before stopping and looking at the mirror. He recognizes the person staring back at him, but not since first coming back from hell has he seen that face. Now, over ten years later, it looks even worse with age.

It’s almost worse than it was with the vampire soul.

There’s a loud crash, and Dean jumps, heart leaping to his throat. He looks around wildly, looking for the source of the crash or for cover, he’s not sure. The door to the bathroom slams open, and Sam’s standing there, hair sticking every which way, with a gun in his hand. He frowns at Dean.

“You okay? What was that?”

Dean shakes his head mutely.

There’s another crash followed immediately by a roar that makes Dean flinch. That was Benny next door. Sam helps Dean back up to his feet (when did he fall? Dean can’t remember), and they run outside to where Benny has burst through the door with his hand around a really greasy-looking guy’s throat.

“Jesus, Benny, let him go!” Sam yells, running forward. Benny backhands him without a second thought, and Sam goes down with a cry. Dean hurries to help him back up to his feet.

“Benny, no, I’m fine!” Elizabeth’s in the doorway now, with Charlie just behind her. “Leave him alone!”

“What happened?” Sam asks as he and Dean back up to the girls. Charlie holds out a brick and points to the shattered window.

“Apparently they figured out where Elizabeth is.”

“Oh, so this is one of the assholes who thinks being gay is a crime,” Sam says tersely, turning back to frown at where the greasy-looking guy is struggling to gasp in air.

“Yeah, but they don’t need to get strangled over it,” Elizabeth argues, storming forward. Sam makes a grab for her to hold her back, but she moves fast, a hand on Benny’s shoulder before anyone can do anything about it.

“Benny,” she says firmly, calmly. “We’re leaving in the morning. We never have to see them again. I’m fine. Let. Him. Go.”

Benny growls, low and menacing. A few moments pass as the asshole’s eyes start fluttering shut. Then Benny lets go, and the guy falls hard to the pavement, gasping and coughing.

Benny snarls a few threats, and the stranger scrambles to his feet and bolts away. Benny storms back into the motel room, Elizabeth close behind like an exasperated mother. Charlie and Sam exchange glances before going their separate ways.

Dean tries to peel himself away from the wall.


	31. Great Stress-Relievers

It hasn’t been a fun day.

Well, it hasn’t been a fun couple of days. Maybe weeks.

Though, on the bright side of things, Charlie has a super cute and not-straight girl sitting in her bed right now. Okay, so they’re both fully clothed (except for bras, that would be silly) and a good foot or two apart, and they’re really just avoiding all of the awkwardness in the rest of the bunker but still.

And, god, is it awkward. All five of them were cramped into the Impala for the drive back, and the silence was even more deafening than it had been on the way there. They got to the bunker in time for dinner, but Dean announced it was leftover night so help yourselves. Charlie and Elizabeth grabbed a couple bowls of cereal and quickly retreated.

Elizabeth is fairly quiet, stabbing at her cereal with a spoon. Charlie wants to say something, but she doesn’t know what. She just met the girl after all.

Finally, Elizabeth stills.

“How well do you know R--uh. Benny?”

Charlie frowns. “Um. Not that well. I just met him a week or two ago.”

Elizabeth nods. “I know you guys said he’s soulless or whatever right now, but… that was…”

“Not him,” Charlie agrees. “Benny’s a teddy bear. But being soulless… Sam? The tall one? He was soulless for a while. It was scary.”

Elizabeth nods shortly, and it looks like she’s chewing on the inside of her cheek. “So I really shouldn’t be this upset.”

Charlie shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m saying.” She hesitates for a moment before placing a hand on Elizabeth’s knee. “All I’m saying is this isn’t permanent. We’ll get the cuddly guy we know and love back soon enough.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twists into what’s probably supposed to be a smile. Charlie counts it as a win. Elizabeth sighs and sets her cereal on the bedside table before flashing Charlie a grin.

“So. I’m guessing you don’t live here considering the bag over there and the lack of a personal touch in here. Where’re you from?”

Charlie shrugs. “Here and there. I was in Chicago for a while. My apartment’s in Michigan, but I probably spend more time here or on the road.”

“What do you do?” Elizabeth actually looks interested. That’s promising.

“I hunt like these guys. And um. Hack? And I’m sort of the queen at my local Renn Faire.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widen. “The queen? That’s awesome. I always wanted to go to one of those.”

“Maybe you can come with me,” Charlie suggests. “You have any plans for after… all… this?” She gestures vaguely. The smile on Elizabeth’s face fades and she picks at a hangnail.

“I dunno. Haven’t really thought much about it.” She looks up at Charlie. “Maybe I can just hitch a ride with you?”

Charlie tries to squash down the bubble of hope in her chest. “Yeah, okay.”

They must’ve scooted closer to each other at some point, though Charlie can’t remember when for the life of her. Not that she’s particularly trying hard, though, because Elizabeth’s leaned in and kissed her, gently, on the lips. She pulls back too quickly and looks back down at her hangnail.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “That probably wasn’t--”

“Are you kidding?” Charlie says, trying not to sound too incredulous. “Dude, I’m so down. If you’re cool, I’m cool.”

Elizabeth glances back up at her, maybe shyly. “Yeah? I mean, I’m not… my headspace…”

“I hear orgasms can be great stress-relievers,” Charlie says, and god help her, she probably sounds way too eager. Elizabeth’s smirking at that, though so….

“Oh, fuck it,” Elizabeth mutters, and then she’s surging forwards, lips on Charlie’s mouth and hand on her face. Charlie has a brief moment of internal celebration before she’s kissing back, hands in Elizabeth’s hair.

Elizabeth’s hands slide down from her grip on Charlie’s face, running down Charlie’s sides. Charlie gives Elizabeth’s hair a small, experimental tug, and Elizabeth gasps into her mouth. Charlie grins and pulls harder, fingers curling at the base of her skull. Elizabeth goes slack for the briefest moment before gathering herself back up and kissing with a renewed vigor. Her hands start exploring, running her nails over Charlie’s nipple from over her shirt. Slowly, Charlie lets Elizabeth push her back, but after a moment Elizabeth grumbles and pulls away. Charlie frowns, blinking away the haze to try to figure out what the hell is going on.

Elizabeth’s untucking her legs from underneath her, wincing in apology. “Sorry. If I didn’t readjust I was gonna fall and break your nose or something.”

Charlie’s gonna go ahead and blame the arousal for the fact that she actually giggles. Elizabeth frowns at her.

“What?”

Charlie shakes her head, waving a hand in dismissal, but she can’t stop giggling. After a moment Elizabeth’s frown cracks into a smile and, another moment more, she’s giggling too. Charlie tries to pull her forward, get back to the main event, but instead they sort of collapse into each other, a mess of limbs and laughter.

Elizabeth calms down first and doesn’t waste a second before latching her lips to Charlie’s. Charlie’s taken off guard enough that she stops giggling instantly, letting Elizabeth push her back into the pillows behind her. There’s a moment where Elizabeth pauses to anchor herself on the mattress, but she’s wedging a thigh between Charlie’s legs so Charlie doesn’t complain. She gives Charlie one more deep, sensual kiss before moving down her neck and sucking. Charlie grits her teeth against the sensation, squirming. The movement causes Elizabeth’s thigh to rub at just the right spot, and somewhere along the way Charlie missed when Elizabeth got a hand up her shirt and started playing with her tits.

Charlie hisses when Elizabeth runs the edge of her teeth against her skin. Charlie’s sure it’s already starting to turn dark. She weaves her fingers through Elizabeth’s hair again, grabbing a fistful near the roots. Elizabeth retaliates by pushing her thigh in closer and rubbing. The seam of Charlie’s jeans catches her clit just right, and she closes her eyes tight against the sensation. She’s pretty sure she can feel Elizabeth smirk against her neck, and then there’s no going back. Elizabeth picks up speed and force with both her leg and mouth, and she twists and pulls at Charlie’s nipple. Charlie feels herself lifting her hips just barely, helping the friction on her clit. Her orgasm starts slow before crashing to a head, and her mouth drops open, spine going straight as a rod.

Elizabeth stops her efforts on Charlie’s neck and nipple, and Charlie can feel her sit back. Once she can open her eyes again she frowns at Elizabeth, who’s smiling as pretty as you please. She shifts her leg--just a bit--and Charlie’s head falls back with a gasp as she feels the movement to her core. Elizabeth still looks immensely pleased with herself as she leans back down to kiss Charlie. Elizabeth’s thigh keeps moving ever so slightly, and Charlie shivers each time until Elizabeth presses one last kiss to her mouth and backs off.

“You gonna live?”

Charlie growls, pushing herself up to a sitting position.

“You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

Elizabeth only shrugs, but her eyes are sparkling. Charlie rolls her eyes.

“All right, lemme show you a thing or two.”

She doesn’t give Elizabeth the time to respond before grabbing her by the shoulders and rolling her over. It’s Charlie’s turn to be on top now. Also, it’s about time clothes were shed. Once both of them are finally topless and wearing only their panties (thank god for the foresight of putting on a cute pair that morning), Elizabeth runs her hands over Charlie’s tits appraisingly. Charlie smirks at her.

“You have a boobs thing, don’t you?”

Elizabeth only looks mildly embarrassed. “Maybe.”

And suddenly Charlie has an idea.

Making sure to keep her legs far away from between Elizabeth’s legs, Charlie keeps her gaze locked with Elizabeth’s and lowers her mouth to Elizabeth’s tits. And just like Charlie thought she might, Elizabeth lets out a low grown, eyes slipping shut. Grinning to herself, Charlie sucks on a nipple before pulling with her teeth. Elizabeth hisses, hands grappling at Charlie’s hips.

“C’mon, c’mon,” she murmurs, but Charlie only keeps at it. It’s only when Elizabeth is writhing, hips bucking slightly in an attempt to find friction, that Charlie leans back. Wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, Charlie watches as Elizabeth continues squirming.

“You ever come just from having your tits played with?” Charlie asks casually. Elizabeth blinks up at her, the question slowly sinking in. Charlie watches, amused, and creeps a hand down Elizabeth’s side to play with the hem of her panties. Finally Charlie catches the moment her words sink in and, without preamble, snakes her fingers past the silky fabric and slides her middle finger up into the wet heat of Elizabeth’s cunt.

Elizabeth cries out, back arching off the bed, and she clenches around Charlie’s finger. Her nails dig into where she’s been clutching at Charlie’s hips, making Charlie wince slightly. She gives Elizabeth a few good and deep pumps, running her nail gently across the g-spot. When she notices the high starting to fall, Charlie slides down the bed and pulls Elizabeth’s panties to the side. One deep breath, and Charlie shoves her tongue into Elizabeth’s cunt as deep as she possibly can. Elizabeth’s legs tighten around Charlie’s head, and her fingers find purchase in her hair. The noises coming from above Charlie’s head are fantastic. It’s like she’s trying to cry out but can’t quite get up to that level of noise--a bunch of haltering vowels and hissing consonants.

Charlie gives it all she’s got, trying to get deeper with every push of her tongue, rubbing her nose hard against Elizabeth’s clit. Elizabeth shudders violently with every movement until she gives Charlie’s hair one hard tug that makes her eyes water. Charlie pulls off, giving her clit on last gently kiss before meeting Elizabeth’s eyes with a grin.

“Fuck,” Elizabeth breathes. Charlie’s grin grows wider as she pulls herself back up to Elizabeth’s level. They kiss again, deep and slow, Elizabeth licking up some of the slick on Charlie’s chin. Charlie rolls off and pulls up one of the blankets. And maybe she curls in on Elizabeth, arm across her chest.

After a moment, Elizabeth shifts.

“I gotta pee,” she says softly. Charlie pulls her arm back in as Elizabeth sits up at the edge of the bed.

“Where the hell did my shirt go?”

Charlie props herself up slightly to look around and grabs the wayward shirt from the far corner of her side of the bed.

“Thanks,” Elizabeth says, pulling it over her head. She stands to leave, and Charlie lays back down, a little pit of nerves starting to grow in her stomach. Elizabeth stops at the door and turns back, a quiet smile playing on her lips.

“Hey. Thank you,” she says. “For everything.”

She walks out, and Charlie pulls the blanket over her head with excitement.


	32. Too Much Noise

Cas recognizes the voice immediately. He’s just not sure why Benny’s praying to him. Or, rather, demanding that Cas “get his motherfuckin’ holier-than-thou ass” to the bunker.

He doesn’t remember Sam being this obnoxious when he was soulless. Disconcerting, sure. Untrustworthy, definitely. Entirely without morals, absolutely.

But not this kind of obnoxious.

It goes on for twenty minutes or so. Then he hears Sam.

“Cas, could you come by? We seem to have a . . . soullessness issue.”

Cas takes a deep breath and goes to the main room.

Dean startles, and Benny looks angry to have been taken off guard even a little bit.

Sam seems to be getting used to Cas popping in and out. He hardly blinks.

“Sam,” Cas has to hold back from greeting him better. He looks anxious and annoyed. “What seems to be the problem?”

Sam gestures in Benny’s direction.

“Benny?” Cas doesn’t bother with a greeting. It seems a moot point since Benny’s been yelling at him all day. “What can I do for you?”

“Take me to Purgatory.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “How, exactly, do you expect me to do that?”

“I don’t fuckin’ care, smite me if you hafta!”

Sam interjects then. “You might not go back to Purgatory. You’re soulless. You’d probably just . . . die.”

Sam has a point. Not the one Cas would have made, but a valid point nonetheless.

“I seem to recall you feeling . . . downright eager about getting out the first time. And the second time, apparently, for that matter.” Cas keeps his voice steely and steady. “Why do you want to go back?”

Benny returns his gaze, eyes cold the way only eyes with no soul behind them can be.

“Andrea,” he responds.

“What?”

Cas and Sam turn toward Dean. He hasn’t said a word during this whole process, tucked back against a wall as though he’s afraid. Given what Cas has seen of Benny sans soul thus far, he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean felt scared.

Dean looks devastated.

Benny doesn’t look at Dean, just keeps glaring at Cas. He explains in clipped, impatient statements, “She was my girl. Left my nest for her. Gave up drinkin’ humans for her. My maker turned her. I intend to get her back.”

“And what about Dean?”

“What about him? He’s not her.”

Cas glances at Dean and can see the crippling pain plain on his face. Even out of practice, Cas could feel this kind of pain from half the world away. It’s a jab at Dean’s pet festering wound: worthlessness. The hole created by every person who ever left Dean and every person Dean ever failed.

But Dean’s expression disappears after only a few moments. It’s replaced not with the schooled indifference Cas expected, but with a complete blankness. Dean is not with them any more. He’s in the hole, and Cas has never seen him fall so deeply into it so instantaneously. Damn Benny.

When Cas looks away from Dean, Benny is still staring him down.

“C’mon, birdbrain. I haven’t got all day.”

“No.”

Cas probably wouldn’t have done it anyway. But he cannot believe the regression in Dean--the regression forced by Benny’s hand.

“What’d’you mean, no?”

“I mean no.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I’m not doing this to Dean. I’m not going to help you do this.”

“Just do it, Cas,” Sam directs. Damn. Cas can tell how Sam feels about any significant emotion Cas still has for Dean from just the sound of Sam’s voice.

Cas must be getting better at reading Sam. He can feel the anger and the betrayal and, under it all, an enormous streak of jealousy. Where Dean has dug himself a hole, Sam has built a tower. Rows and rows of injustices and inadequacies like building blocks.

“Sam-”

“He’ll find another way if you don’t. You know that. At least this way we have a little more control.”

“You goddamn Winchesters,” Benny’s even louder now somehow. “Always trying to control everyone else.”

“Unlike you?” Cas shoots back.

“You’re doin' this, feathers. You can do it of your own accord or I’ll persuade you.”

“Will you, boy?”

“Yeah, I think I will.”

It’s so loud. Dean’s raw pain thrums in the air, playing background to Benny’s volatile anger. And now Sam’s hurt and his vindictiveness add to the racket.

It’s just too loud. Too selfish and short-sighted and far too loud.

“I won’t do it. It’s not negotiable.”

Cas turns to Sam. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. 


	33. Death Returns

Cas flits off without another word, and Benny throws a chair. The crash pulls Dean back to reality with a flinch. There’s a moment of hesitation from Sam, and then he’s trying to pull Benny back from destroying any more furniture. Distracted as they are, Dean’s the first one to notice Death standing patiently in the doorway.

“Sam,” Dean croaks, voice hoarse from disuse. “Sam.”

Sam gives Benny one big push before turning his attention to Dean.

“What?” he says harshly. Dean tries not to flinch again. But then Benny notices Death.

“The fuck you doin’ here?” he growls.

“Your soul has been repaired.” Death’s holding his briefcase to his side, and Dean notices an orangeish light creeping out from the cracks.

“Good for it,” Benny says. “I don’t want it.”

Sam runs a hand down his face. “Of course not,” he mumbles quietly.

“Your soul needs to be returned to your body--” Death starts, but Benny shakes his head.

“I don’t have time for this,” he rumbles. “I’m going to find a way back to Purgatory and get Andrea.” He storms forward, heading for the door, and tries to push Death out of the way. Death doesn’t budge. Benny growls and then marches around him. Dean jumps forward before he can think better of it.

“Benny, wait, we gotta--”

“Back off, Dean.” He turns to glare at Dean, taking one dangerous step in Dean’s direction.

“Benny--”

But before Dean can argue with him there's a sudden blur of Sam in between them and the sound of knuckles cracking against bone. Dean stumbles backwards, scrambling to get out of what's instantly a full-blown brawl. He glances towards Death, but he only seems vaguely interested in what's going on. Like he has better things to do. Which he probably does, but still.

Benny has a fistful of Sam's hair, yanking him around with a wide swing of his arm. Sam's got blood in his mouth, but Benny looks like he might have a broken nose. Sam gets a grip around the roots of his hair, and Benny doesn't have anymore control. With one powerful upward motion Sam's fist connects under Benny's chin, and Benny flies back, hitting the ground with a thud. Before Benny can get back up, Sam's on top of him, both fists swinging. It's only two, maybe three hits before Benny's out. Sam's arms drop to his side, shoulders heaving as he tries to steady his breathing.

Dean swallows thickly.

Slowly, Sam stands back up, fingers curling and uncurling. He meets Dean's stare and winces.

“Sorry.”

Dean blinks at him. “What? Why?”

Sam gestures at Benny vaguely. "I just-- Well, he's your--" Sam pauses, mouth twisting, and he wipes distractedly at the blood on his lips. "Look, I don't know, Dean. I'm just sorry, okay?"

“You really think he was gonna cooperate otherwise?” Dean asks, slowly feeling a little more put together. “This is good. We’ll just hold him down and let…” He glances at Death, who’s still just standing there with his briefcase, looking mildly impatient as usual. “Let him take care of it.”

* * *

It takes a bit of work, but between the two of them they manage to move Benny to a chair and tie up his wrists and--after a moment of deliberation--ankles. Sam figures with the way Benny’s been lately it’s better safe than sorry. Dean doesn’t argue. Benny’s still out like a light and while Sam works on the last restraint, Dean finds himself checking the cuts on Benny's face. On closer inspection it looks like his nose isn't broken, but it's bleeding pretty badly.

Dean's not sure why, but he finds himself cleaning up Benny's face. At the very least when he wakes back up he won't be trying to see past the blood in his eyes or breathe past the blood in his nose. Dean makes a point not to think about how a week ago he wouldn't have been able to handle even being in the room.

Then they step back, and Death sets his briefcase down on the table. Two sharp clicks, and it opens, and there’s Benny’s soul, all back to normal again. Well. Sort of. Death picks it up carefully, and then thrusts his arm in without further ado. Benny’s eyes pop open, and he roars.

And then it’s done. Death is straightening, brushing his hands together, and closing his briefcase. Benny’s breathing is heavy, eyes wide and blinking past the shock.

He meets Dean’s gaze.

Dean clears his throat. “Um. You okay?”

Benny nods, looking a little numb. There’s another pause.

“Well. Um. Thank you.” Sam’s very determinedly looking at Death instead of either Dean or Benny, and Death nods curtly.

“I would tell you I hope to not see any of you again soon, but I suspect there’s not much point.” He looks at Dean sharply. “I would advise against meddling in things you don’t fully understand, Dean. You do seem to get into trouble every time.”

Dean fights a wince as Death turns his attention to Benny.

“Don’t expect everything to be all right. It won’t be. At least not for a while.”

Benny blinks at him rapidly, and Dean feels his throat constrict.

“And Sam. Remember what you learned. You’re here for a reason.”

Dean turns to frown at Sam, who’s cheeks are turning slightly pink. But there’s a soft rustling, and Dean looks back to Death… and he’s gone.


	34. Dean Drops a Glass

Benny feels all funny and off. It’s like there’s something right at the back of his neck, just waiting there. Whispering. Breathing.

Also he’d forgotten how loud life was as a vampire. He didn’t miss it.

Though on the bright side, his face has all but healed already. Benny's made a mental note to never again get on Sam's bad side.

Charlie, Elizabeth, and Sam have all already gone to bed. It’s late, after all. And the past couple of days have been exhausting. Which is all his fault.

Benny’s gonna have to have a talk with Sam about how in the hell he came to terms with his period of being soulless.

Charlie and Elizabeth are leaving tomorrow. Now that everything’s resolved. It looks like Elizabeth might be moving in with Charlie. Whether or not that’s just a roommate situation or something more, Benny’s not sure. He's pretty sure there's a hickey on Charlie's neck, though he didn't really take the time to actually look. But he likes Charlie, and the Winchesters trust her to hell and back, so if it is something more… he guesses that’s okay.

Benny hasn’t seen much of Dean since Death left. Benny knows he wasn’t exactly… kind towards Dean the past couple days, but. Well. Everything’s resolved now, right? And it’s not like he can be held too responsible for anything he said or did--he was fucking soulless, after all. Right? Right. It’s not his fault.

Benny finally finds Dean in the kitchen, furiously working at a pile of dirty dishes. Quietly, Benny comes up behind him and wraps him up in a warm hug.

“You comin’ to bed anytime soon?”

Dean flinches. Dean flinches wildly the moment Benny touches him. Benny pulls back fast, hands up, taking a few quick steps backwards.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… to startle you or anythin’.”

Dean’s heartbeat is racing, and his breath is uneven and shaky. Benny feels something ugly twist in his stomach.

“You okay?”

Dean doesn’t answer. His back is still to Benny, still elbow deep in soapy water. Benny waits until he can’t wait anymore.

“So that’s a no.”

There’s a huff, like Dean’s trying--and failing, to laugh. Then, slowly, heart still racing, breath still shaky, Dean turns to face him.

“Charlie has a theory. Thinks that a soul is the same thing as inhibitions or something,” he says quietly, not quite meeting Benny’s eyes. “So for most people, they lose their soul, they turn violent. Cuz normally they don’t let themselves be violent. It’s why I was… well, why I was kinda an emotional wreck. You know what I think you don’t let yourself do?” Dean looks at him for a moment. Benny shakes his head because he doesn’t know if he can talk.

“You don’t let yourself take what you want. If there’s any reason you think you shouldn’t, you won’t. So when you were soulless, you found Elizabeth. You wanted to find Andrea.”

Suddenly Benny thinks he knows where this is going.

“Dean…”

Dean looks away again, wiping his hands off on a towel. “Look, Benny, maybe… We could get you back to Purgatory, easy, and you could find Andrea, and then maybe you’d… you’d be happier.”

“Dean, listen to me, I--”

Dean shrugs, turning away and grabbing a clean towel to dry off the stack of now clean dishes. “It’s okay. This isn’t working for you, and that’s okay. All I am is a good fuck, and--”

“That’s not true,” Benny interrupts firmly. Dean turns to glare at him.

“Yes it is. All you wanted from me was a fucking blowjob, and then you--”

“I already had you, I didn’t need to fight for you!” Benny argues, but he’s knows it’s bullshit, he knows what Dean’s gonna say next.

“Did you not hear yourself?” Dean says. “What you said to Cas? 'He's not her'. You were willing to just leave, no second thoughts--”

“I would’ve come back,” Benny says quietly. Dean laughs bitterly.

“And what? Left Andrea behind? Brought her back and… and then what?”

Benny doesn’t have a good answer. He doesn’t know. Honestly, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead.

Dean doesn’t take the silence well. There’s another huff, and then he’s back to drying the dishes.

“We’ll get you back to Purgatory. You can find Andrea. We’ll all go back to our separate lives.”

“Dean, I don’t even rightly know if I could even… talk some sense inta Andrea or anythin’,” Benny says, running a hand down his face. “Doubt I could, if I’m bein’ honest. I don’t… okay, maybe a part a me wants to go back and find her, but it’d be pointless.”

“So you’ll settle.”

“That’s _not_ what I’m sayin’,” Benny says sharply. “I’m not settlin’, I’m just… makin’ the smart choice here.”

“Also known as settling.”

Benny reaches out and grabs Dean by the shoulder, whirling him around so they’re face to face. Dean jumps, the glass in his hand slipping to the floor and shattering.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, dropping to one knee to try and scoop up the shards.

“Dean, don’t, you’ll--”

There’s a hiss, and Benny sighs. “Cut yourself.” He turns to grab a broom and pan and another clean towel. He hands the towel to Dean who wraps up his cut palm, looking thoroughly irritated. He sweeps up the broken glass quickly, making a point not to breathe, and dumps it in the trash. Dean stands back up, attention all on the towel around his hand instead of Benny.

“I’m sorry,” Benny says gently. “I’m not settlin', Dean, I promise you. I’m goin' with the option better for me. Healthier. Happier. I’m goin' with the option that I know… well, I hope, anyway, loves me. I’m goin' with the option I love.”

Dean looks up at him sharply, eyes wide and blinking.

Benny always knew it’d be a risk whenever he finally said the “l” word. And he doesn’t ever expect to hear it back. Not in that way, at least. He knows Dean. He knew what he was getting into.

And that’s okay.

After a couple long, silent moments Dean looks away again, unwrapping his hand gingerly. “Fine. You’ve made your point.” He walks past Benny, toward the doorway.

“Whoa, wait, Dean--” Benny grabs for Dean’s forearm, and once again, Dean flinches away, coming to a sudden halt. Benny backs off, hands in the air.

“...Why can’t I touch you?” he asks, almost in a whisper, something tight in his throat. There’s a muscle jumping in Dean’s jaw.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He starts to leave again, and Benny has to hold himself back from trying to stop him.

“Yes it does,” he says quickly. “Dean… Please. I’m tryin’ to fix this.”

“It’s fine, Benny,” Dean says dismissively.

“No, it’s not,” Benny says, following him out of the kitchen. “Look, I know you’re allergic to feelin's and would rather run away when things get hard--”

“That’s a fucking lie,” Dean hisses, whirling around.

“I mean emotionally, Dean, you know that,” Benny says through gritted teeth. “My point bein’, I want this to work. And, as far as I can tell, you do too. But we gotta talk 'bout this if that’s gonna happen.”

Something in Dean seems to deflate. He picks at the cut on his palm. Benny clenches his teeth against the smell and waits.

“Logically, I know it wasn’t you,” Dean mutters. “Not really. But I don’t… It’s gonna take me a little while, okay?”

“What wasn’t me?” Benny asks, confused. Dean gestures a little aimlessly.

“The… the reason you… can’t touch me right now.”

“Which is what, Dean?” He’s trying to be patient, he really is. But this is getting exhausting, and if Dean would just be straight up with him this could be fixed a whole hell of a lot faster.

Dean doesn’t answer, though. He just looks at Benny, something in his face that makes Benny feel sick. Something… something like fear.

“Dean…”

“I can’t talk about it, Benny,” he says, gaze dropping once more.

“Dean….” Benny can hear the pleading in his own voice. He’s not sure he cares at this point.

“There are just… some things you can’t joke about.”

With that, Dean walks away. Benny stands rooted to the spot, feeling sick and confused, and trying to figure out what joke he made in the past couple days.


	35. Benny Finds Out

It’s a dumb idea. But it’s the middle of the night and Sam fucking wants ice cream.

They don’t even bother to sneak. Who else is going to be up at 3:45 AM?

It’s a dumb idea, but it feels so good to wander into the kitchen together, each of them in just pajama pants. Taking two or three times as long as they should to get there because they keep stopping to kiss and touch and laugh quiet, small laughs appropriate for the wee hours of the morning.

They fall into the kitchen together. It’s hard to walk normally while chest-to-chest.

They make it to the fridge without major incident.

Sam pulls open the freezer.

“Typical. We have vanilla and butter pecan and some really old chocolate.”

Cas presses tight up against Sam’s back with his chin tucked over one shoulder. “You don’t like butter pecan?”

“Do you?”

“Eh. I’m neither here nor there when it comes to ice cream.”

“I see how it is. This is no midnight snack run. You’re stalking me.”

“You caught me.” Cas presses a kiss to Sam’s shoulder. “You have a mole right there, did you know that?”

“They’re everywhere.”

“It’s cute.”

Cas picks a spot on the top of Sam’s shoulder and sucks. Sam flinches with a little squeak. Cas scoffs a laugh against the skin, his fingers teasing at the waistband of Sam’s pajama pants.

Sam grabs the butter pecan and turns around to get spoons.

Benny’s in the kitchen doorway.

“Shit.”

Cas looks up from Sam’s shoulder and freezes. “Oh, shit.”


	36. Benny Asks the Hard Questions

“Does he know?”

“No.”

“When are you going to tell him?”

“Would _you_ want to tell him?”

“Fair point.”


	37. Another Family Holiday Pt 1

It’s been too long since they’ve been back in Lebanon, Charlie realizes as she and Elizabeth pull up to the bunker in Charlie’s Bug. Dean, Sam, and Cas are already outside, Dean at the barbeque, Sam and Cas sitting… well, weirdly close for Dean only being five feet away. Charlie hurries to turn off the car and bolt out the door for hugs, Elizabeth close behind. Sam and Cas have already noticed their arrival, but Dean seems to be in a world of his own until Charlie’s right on top of him.

“Jesus!” he cries, stumbling a little. “Whoa, hot stuff here, Charlie, careful!”

Charlie rolls her eyes, giving Dean a kiss on the cheek before pulling back to give Sam and Cas hugs as well.

“Smells good, Dean,” Elizabeth says as they hug. Dean brightens visibly.

“Yeah? Got any tricks you wanna show me?”

Elizabeth takes the spatula from Dean’s hands and pokes at the burgers and brats experimentally. “Nah, seems like you got it under control. Benny inside?”

Dean’s smile falls flat in an instant, and Charlie almost gets worried until Sam starts chuckling.

“Yeah, he’s trying to finish his book before coming out.”

“What’s he readin'?” Elizabeth asks. Dean scowls, yanking his spatula out of Elizabeth’s hand and poking at the meat. Charlie feels a grin grow on her lips.

“Is he really?” she asks Sam. Sam’s eyes are sparkling with amusement, and Charlie vaguely notices Sam and Cas’s hands curling in on each other. Elizabeth looks between Charlie and Sam with a frown.

“What? What is he readin'?”

“There is a series of scripture that was published as fictional books,” Cas explains. “It chronicles the lives of the Winchesters.”

Elizabeth blinks. “That’s creepy.”

“Thank you!” Dean bursts.

“I’m not saying it isn’t creepy,” Sam says, though he’s fighting laughter. “I just think it’s funny that the easiest way for your boyfriend to learn about you is by reading _Supernatural_!”

“Yeah, well, at least I’ve still got some measure of privacy,” Dean grumbles. Sam’s grin drops, and Cas’s expression hardens. Charlie winces. Well, that answers that question.

“Anyway…” she says quickly, giving Sam the ‘we’ll talk later’ look. “We’re gonna go say hi to Benny and use the little girls’ room.”

Sam smiles at them, a little weakly though. “Good to see you girls.”

Charlie takes Elizabeth by the hand and hurries inside.

“Did they tell him?” Elizabeth asks in a whisper.

“I doubt it,” Charlie replies. “Benny!”

The vampire is sitting at the conference table, feet up, nose buried in what looks like _Dark Side of the Moon_. Charlie grins. Fitting. Benny looks up at her call quickly and pulls his feet off the table, glancing back at the book for a moment before putting it down on the table face down.

“Lizzy! Charlie! You made it!”

They exchange hugs, and seriously, this is why they need to spend more time with these boys. They’re damn good at hugs.

“How you two ladies doin’?”

“Well, I’ve needed to pee for, like, an hour, so I’ll be right back,” Elizabeth says quickly before ducking to the hallway. Charlie watches her disappear until she hears Benny give a quiet “huh”.

“What?” she asks, and, okay, that was too defensive. Benny smiles and shakes his head.

“Just glad you two’re happy, that’s all.”

Charlie purses her lips and scratches at the back of her neck. “Thanks, I guess? I mean. I am too. What about you?”

“Me?” Benny echoes. “You mean me ‘n’ Dean? We’re… getting there. Slower than I’d like. But surely.” He gestures at the book on the table. “These are helpin’. You ever read them?”

Charlie grins. “You kidding me? Gobbled them up. I dunno if the boys have told you, but there’re unpublished books online once you’re done with these. Which you almost are.”

“Really?” Benny asks, brightening. “Good, I was gettin' worried!”

Charlie nods. “I think they’re still coming out too. I stopped reading once I showed up, though. That got a little weird.”

Benny frowns at her a little. “Yeah, I imagine.”

* * *

Charlie and Elizabeth manage to convince Benny to leave the book for now and come outside for food. (“But that Zachariah asshat just showed up ‘n’ I wanna know--” “It’s the Fourth of July, Benny! Just c’mon!”) It’s still a little tense outside, but Cas is telling the brothers about a rogue angel in Heaven who’s trying to take over so at least it’s not quiet.

“Is she an actual problem or just annoying?” Dean asks, flipping a burger with a little more force than really necessary. Sam’s sitting in a folding chair next to Cas, twiddling his thumbs and smiling to himself.

“I can handle her,” Cas says impatiently. “I just thought we could use a topic of conversation.”

“How about this topic of conversation,” Dean says brightly when he notices Benny, Charlie, and Elizabeth coming outside. “Dinner’s ready! Ladies first. Plates, utensils, condiments, chips, drinks, all that great stuff, over there on the table.” Dean points at the small picnic table a couple feet away from the barbeque. Charlie and Elizabeth hurry to grab plates as Benny walks up to Dean for a kiss. Which Charlie is totally not paying extra attention to. That would be creepy. She’s just… keeping an eye out for her friends.

“You finish the book?”

“Nah. Though, will you please tell me that Zachariah dickhead gets what’s comin'?”

Dean grins, and that’s maybe a little bit of preening there. “Oh, he definitely does. Actually, Charlie pointed out to me a while back something interesting. You remember when he first showed up?”

“In _It’s A Terrible Life_?”

“I have no idea what the fuck the book is called, honey.”

_Honey_. Charlie can’t help the grin she gives Dean as she presents her bun and plate for a burger. Dean glares at her lightly.

“Cheese or no cheese?”

“No cheese,” she responds. Dean dishes her her food, and she steps aside for Elizabeth’s turn.

“Anyway,” Dean continues. “I told him I’d stab him--”

“Ah!” Benny cries, jumping back and clapping his hands over his ears. “Spoilers!”

Dean rolls his eyes dramatically. “Guess what, Benny. Spoilers! It’s real life!”

Benny sticks his tongue out at Dean, and Dean rolls his eyes again, turning his attention back to Elizabeth. “Sorry. Cheese or no cheese?”

"Cheese," Elizabeth responds, looking amused. "Should I read these books too?"

Dean holds back her burger right before putting it on her bun. "Don't you dare."

"I get that it's real life, you dimwit," Benny's saying. "But they're a fun read when I don't actually know what's coming."

"Yeah, well, guess what else," Dean drawls as Elizabeth joins Charlie. "The Apocalypse didn't happen."

"Spoilers!" Benny barks, hands going back over his ears.

"Spoilers," Dean echoes, attention fully pulled away from dishing food. "A couple years later I wound up in Purgatory and met a vampire from fucking Louisiana!"

"What's wrong with Louisiana?" Elizabeth interjects.

"Dean, would you--" Sam manages to wrestle the spatula out of Dean's hand. Dean jogs after Benny, who's still got his hands over his ears.

"And then-- _spoilers_ \--a few years later I started dating him!"


	38. Another Family Holiday Pt 2

Dean and Benny went into town and got a huge box of fireworks a good two weeks before July 4th. It's been locked away in their room since--both of them maintaining that the celebration will be more exciting if Sam doesn't know which fireworks they got.

So when they drive out to a big field a few miles from the bunker (all six of them packed into the Impala like sardines), none of them know what's in the box. Except, of course, Dean and Benny.

The field is huge and open to the bright summer sky. The grass is probably green enough that they won't start any fires and a cool breeze rustles the trees around them.

It's almost familiar.

Sure, one field looks pretty much like any other field, but as they pull up and pile out of the car, Sam can't shake the feeling that he knows this place.

"Have we come out here before?" He asks Cas--in a low voice in case he's supposed to know and is about to get a ribbing from his brother about his horrible memory.

"Not that I'm aware. Why?"

"I guess it's nothing."

They set out a cooler and four camp chairs, one ancient lawn chair, and one of the dining room chairs by the Impala at the edge of the clearing. Cas takes the hard-backed dining room chair. Probably so that no one else will have to settle for it.

Sam grabs them each a beer and pops the caps.

He hands Cas his beer and sinks down into the creaky old lawnchair.

Cas laughs and snorts beer all over the both of them.

"Holy shit," Sam jumps up, away from the spray.

Cas can hardly keep his seat he's laughing so hard.

"I missed something. What's so funny?"

Cas sucks in a breath. "It's just . . . that's a really short chair, Sam. I'm just not used to being a good two and half feet taller than you. And your knees practically went up past your head--you should just see yourself."

"You are so drunk. How are you so drunk?"

"I'm not that drunk--it's hilarious."

"Uh huh."

"I'm serious!" Cas gets up and kidnaps Charlie from where she's browsing their firework selection.

"Look, look, watch this."

Cas and Charlie look up at Sam expectantly.

"It's not that funny, Charlie," Sam explains. "I think someone must've snuck a little something with dinner."

"Do it again," Cas insists.

Sam sighs.

"C'mon. C'mon, babe, it's funny."

Sam plops down in the chair and glares up at the two of them from an admittedly low altitude. "See?"

They both burst into laughter at exactly the same time.

"Oh my god, I didn't think he could be that short," Charlie giggles.

"I told you," Cas looks triumphantly at Charlie. And then at Sam.

Charlie perches on the dining room chair next to Sam and then nearly falls off of it in another laughing fit.

"You--you're like the height of a kindergartener," she crows. "A really angry kindergartener."

"How much have _you_ had to drink, Charlie?"

She grins down at him. And has the gall to pat his head. "It's okay, Sam, plenty of people struggle with height inadequacies." She bites her lip to keep a straight face. "We still love you."

Sam's about to make it clear, in no uncertain terms, how unamused he is, when Dean yells at them from the firework armory.

"Come tease Sam over here, Charlie--we're gonna start lighting some of these."

When the three of them make it to the box, with an irresponsible amount of poking and head patting, Dean's just lit a Roman candle.

That's when Sam realizes why this all feels so familiar.

He and Dean had piled into the car and drove out to a field for fireworks once way back in the 90s. Probably the best Fourth of July he's ever had.

Dean lights Roman candles for each of them and they all walk out into the expanse of the field to watch the sky light up. Dean catches Sam's eye and grins like complete lunatic. Charlie takes off running across the field, sending starbursts up all around her, and Elizabeth takes off after her.

Cas puts a hand at the small of Sam's back.

"What are you thinking about?"

Sam smiles at him. "Family."


	39. Another Family Holiday Pt 3

They're all a little buzzed, so Cas is the one who drives them back to the bunker. Dean very pointedly agrees to it and then grumps the entire drive. Well, until Benny starts nibbling at his ear.

"You two do realize we're all right here?" Charlie asks, amused. Dean glares at her.

"You're one to talk," he says. "Are you sitting on her lap?"

Charlie grins, eyes going a little unfocused for a moment. "'M comfy."

"'N' I don' mind," Elizabeth agrees. Dean grins.

"Yeah, well, I don't mind a little nibbling."

"You could wait until we're home," Sam suggests, glancing at them from the rearview mirror.

"As if you wouldn't be doin' the same thing if you could," Benny rumbles, and Dean shivers against the vibrations of his voice right on his ear. It's a good enough distraction that Dean forgets to be annoyed about the implications of what Benny said.

When they finally get back to the bunker and tumble inside, everyone goes their separate directions for bed. The girls are staying the night--and the next couple days, if Dean can convince them--and Dean thinks he sees Cas following Sam but chooses to ignore it for now. Or for forever. Either works.

Benny's hand is intertwined with Dean's as he leads them to their own room. Dean gets this sense of mild, but happy, confusion, and he doesn't want to admit it, but he knows why. Things have been tense for the past couple months. They've had their good moments, and they've had their really good moments, but they've also had screaming matches and nights on the couch. Dean's pretty sure Benny understands what he couldn't say back then now, but they haven't talked about it. Dean's grateful for that.

Dean closes the door behind them, hand still in Benny's, before gently pushing him against the door and kissing him. Benny makes a quiet little noise of surprise at first, but he doesn't take much persuading. Dean pushes his tongue past Benny's lips and licks into his mouth, free hand curling at the base of Benny's head. Benny groans lowly, hands going to rest on Dean's hips. After a few more moments of heady kissing, Dean pulls back and rests his forehead against Benny's.

"Mmwhat was tha' for?" Benny mumbles, and Dean smiles.

"Nothin'. 'M just glad you're here."

Benny pulls back, blinking at Dean slowly in the dark of their bedroom. "Yeah?"

Dean gives him a soft smile and nods. "Yeah."

Benny grins. "Well, good. Cuz I ain't goin' nowhere."


End file.
